


Of Birthrights and Love

by Escopeta



Series: Sing With Me A Song [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canon Fix-It, Character Death, Childhood, Family, Friendship, Gen, Multiple Pov, Novelization, Pre-Canon, Prequel, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-05-10 09:04:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 35
Words: 185,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Escopeta/pseuds/Escopeta
Summary: ○ Tragedy struck without warning, and now she'll have to make the best of things with her new identity, and her new child. Meanwhile, her sister works hard to restore what was lost, and get her revenge on the one who took it all away.○ Childhood is defined differently for everyone. One prince endures to survive among the decadent court of his home life, and another gradually learns at an early age what it takes to be a good king. The word "monster" becomes synonymous with a girl's very own person, and a young ninja decides to have a voice instead of just being silent support like his peers.○ Memories from his short life are all he has to hold dear, and he'll do whatever is necessary to protect the future of those he loves. Including a daughter he never knew existed. She'll do her best to carry out his wishes, and ensure that her newfound sister survives the ordeal.Semi-rewrite ofFire Emblem: Fates.Part 1 explores events before the canon storyline.Named characters in tags have varying amounts of POVs.





	1. I

Summer in Valla is Karuna’s most cherished time of year.

In the mornings, songbirds greet her, and the fireflies dot the ponds like the stars do the night sky. The water that flows throughout the castle gardens and winds across the land is fresh and crystal clear. Overabundance of streams, rivers, lakes, ponds, and brooks is what the country is known for, after all.

Karuna like to paint during this season. There’s less of a chance the paint stays moist and risks running down the canvas. Some days she likes to use the ink blocks from Hoshido’s finest artisans, and other times she enjoys the elegant sheen of oil paints from Nohr. Lotus flowers have always been a common theme in Vallite artwork, and on days she feels glum, Karuna can always cheer herself up by drawing them.

So treasured are these flowers that the royal gardens overflow with them. Most are white and pink, but the court mages and botanists have managed to breed some in other colors, from red and orange to blue and purple, and all the pigments in between. It’s at the peak of July when the land is fully embraced by the magnificence of the lotus. But as a consequence, it’s also the time of year the Vallite court holds its annual lotus banquet.

Now, while Karuna enjoys the food like anyone else, the socializing she can do without. Not that she particularly hates it, but more that she’s rarely noticed in comparison to her half-sister, Freyja.

One reason is that Freyja is the queen of Valla, but the other was prominent since they were children: she has a beautiful singing voice and hypnotic dance to match. Her confidence pulls others around her when she performs, when she speaks, and even when she merely sits in a room. 

Karuna can’t say she’s envious of Freyja. While they do fight like sisters often do, Freyja always holds her in high regard, even though they only share a father, the previous king of Valla. In court, Karuna is often given opportunity for political input and for that of the country’s welfare. Freyja is always kind to her, though became a little strict once they grew older. There’s no way Karuna can dislike her. Envy some of her traits, yes, but as Freyja has told her time and time again, everyone is created the way they are for a purpose, and Karuna will find hers eventually.

Obviously that time is not today, considering she sticks to the wall like a vine. 

The throne room is the biggest room in Castle Gyges, and it’s where banquets and the like are often held. There’s a stairway to the gardens at the right so guests can freely stroll in and out. Along the pillars are carvings of the gods, woven into the floral patterns that reach the ceiling. The capitals each end in a large lotus carved out of the sandstone. Greenery seeps through the cracks in the walls, and while this would normally concern the architects, it offers clean air and keeps the room fresh, even in the sweltering summer heat, like today’s. 

Karuna brushes her fingers along the moss of the walls. Another thing she likes to paint, though now isn’t the time to up and leave when so many noble guests are present.

“What are you doing all the way over here?” 

She jumps a little, and then sighs. “You startled me, Freyja.”

“It keeps you on your toes.” She gives Karuna a smile. “The royalty of Hoshido and Nohr are ascending the steps. We ought to greet them.”

“Oh, but I don’t really—”

“Yes, you ‘really’. I may be the queen, but you’re still a Vallite princess and the royal advisor, and thus, still equally important. Both to the court, and to me.” Freyja holds out her hand. “Come, sister.”

Hesitantly, she takes Freyja’s hand, and allows herself to be led to the throne where King Latham is waiting. His smile is brilliant even with his missing eye (hidden by a gold patch) and stub for a left arm. Testaments to his good nature, loyalty to the kingdom, and the reason why he lost them in the first place.

“Ah, you found little Karuna,” he says, eye crinkling in the corner. He has his silver hair tied back today instead of letting it flow over his shoulders like he usually does. Latham only ever seems to care to get it out of the way whenever he meets with foreign royalty.

“She was hiding among the moss and pillars, but I’ll always find my sister, no matter where she may be.”

Latham leans in, and pats Karuna’s shoulder. “You needn’t be shy around the other nobles, or royal families.” 

“Every year it’s the same,” she replies. “I say my greetings, they theirs, and then it’s off to somebody more interesting.”

“You really should have more confidence in yourself, Karuna. Especially with your achievements in medicine and magic.”

“Believe me, I know where I stand.”

Latham shakes his head, but says nothing more. Freyja doesn’t comment either, as it would be a wasted effort. It’s not that Karuna doesn’t have confidence in herself. It’s simply that she knows her place in the court, and is more than aware of the comments made about her demure nature. Or so everyone thinks. She’s a good shot with a bow and can best most of the army with a lance or naginata, though she never speaks of it, just to keep the element of surprise should the time ever come. All anyone knows is her potency for magic (healing magic, specifically), and she’d like to keep it that way.

Her courtly nickname, the ‘Silent Princess’, has never been more fitting.

Other nobles in the room turn their attention to the throne where the royalty of Hoshido and Nohr stand before those of Valla. Their retainers take to the nearest pillar, out of the way, or perhaps out of sight as a vantage point.

Freyja smiles and welcomes them both with open arms. With her long braided hair the color of the sky, and golden eyes, skin smooth and sunkissed, she looks like a goddess in her white formal gown. It’s adorned with gold and aqua accents, her headdress a tiara with a veil flowing down behind her head. Latham gives a discreet smile to his wife, adoration sparkling in his eyes, before turning his attention to the kings and queens of their allied nations.

“Welcome to Valla, my friends,” he greets, holding out his hand.

“Seems like only yesterday we were last here,” King Garon starts first. He shakes Latham’s hand, and then kisses Freyja’s. “Looking as young as ever, Freyja.”

“Your wife is right there,” she replies lightly. “Old age is a good look for you, Garon.”

“He wears it proudly,” comes the chuckle from Queen Katerina. “A symbol of longevity and endurance, he often tells me.”

King Garon and Queen Katerina are the rulers of Nohr, a land west of Valla. Often cloudy or overcast, it rains in the north frequently during most of the year. But the night sky is always clear, and offers the best view of the stars and universe.

“You’re not looking a day over 40 either,” Latham says, taking Katerina’s hand and giving it a kiss.

“Oh I never said I did!” She laughs, and slaps him on the back good-naturedly. He stumbles a bit, and the others laugh. Karuna only offers a smile.

Katerina is a beam of sunlight in the otherwise dreary Nohr. Her golden hair is done in braids around her head like a crown, the rest of it curling down her shoulders. Brown eyes give the illusion she’s kind and considerate, and while that’s true, she shows no mercy to those who pose a threat to her kingdom or its people. She’s the best with an axe, but is also astoundingly proficient in magic. Her axe is strapped to her back, and the divine tome Brynhildr is settled in a holster at her hip, hidden by her cloak. It contains spells only the owner of the tome is able to use, and also helps vegetation and the like, grow. 

Garon, on the other hand, is an intimidating man with his tall stature (like most Nohrian men), and strict to boot. He doesn’t smile often and his face is almost permanently frowning. Wine-colored eyes are about the only thing vibrant about him. His laws aren’t always well received, and as a result, isn’t well-liked by some in his kingdom. Despite any criticisms, he has his country’s best interests before himself, even before his family.

Mimicking his wife, Garon keeps a divine weapon at his hip, the sword Siegfried. Horrifyingly sharp, it can shoot beams of red energy. It’s almost as tall as he is, and Karuna can only wonder how he manages to wield it so easily. Must’ve had a lot of practice. After all, divine weapons are difficult to master, and choose their wielder. But once the master and weapon are in sync, they make for ruthless opponents. 

“Looks like you’re the only old one here, Latham,” laughs King Sumeragi. Queen Ikona chuckles beside him, both ever radiant in their white garments, accented with blue, red, and gold. Unlike their Nohrian allies, they wear very little protective gear.

Sumeragi and Ikona are the benevolent rulers of Hoshido, the land to the east of Valla. Most of the year it boasts favorable weather, and its natural beauty brings many far and wide to admire it. If Karuna had to pick, she’d much rather vacation there than in Nohr for the scenery alone.

While Sumeragi might not be as tall as Garon, his hair is something of envy among the royal Hoshidan court. It’s long and full like a lion’s mane, framed by a white headpiece with horns. The dark brown luster of his hair has mostly faded into an equally appealing dark gray and white, just like his beard. (Whether his beard or Garon’s is more impressive, Karuna can’t pick.) His eyes are kind but stern, and crinkle at the edges when he smiles. Strapped to his waist is the divine weapon Raijinto, a katana that shoots lightning.

Ikona doesn’t speak much, but when she does, everyone listens with the utmost attention. Unlike her husband, she looks much younger than she actually is. Her hair is long, and vivid like the cherry blossoms that grace Hoshido’s lands, perhaps a few hues darker. She wears a colorful kimono in red, blue, and white adorned with gold patterns. The rising sun crown behind her head illusions a halo, and her kind smile and soft gaze is reminiscent of angels. On her back is strapped the divine weapon Fujin Yumi, a bow that needs no arrows, as it creates them with powerful gusts of wind that slice something fearsome.

All six of them standing in front of the throne, regal in their air and confident in their posture, paints a perfect picture of peace and kinship between the three kingdoms of the world.

Karuna can’t help but smile, and hopes the peace lasts for another millennium.

Other nobles of the court chat up the kings and queens, and stroll off to mingle before the banquet starts. Karuna stays by the throne, trying (failing) not to be discouraged that she was invisible in their introductions. Well, it can’t be helped. She could’ve spoken up, but didn’t. Despite being a princess, she doesn’t carry herself like they do, and she’s not sure if she ever will.

“Ah, Lady Karuna, I didn’t see you there. You’re always so quiet.”

Sumeragi stands before her, smiling. Karuna blinks a few times, and bows. “Good evening, King Sumeragi.”

“Please, Sumeragi is just fine. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Thank you. Pleasant to have you back at Valla’s castle. I hope you like the banquet this year. The lotus flowers are especially vibrant and colorful. The chefs have also promised me a new flavor of curry for the main course, and sweet bread among the desserts.”

“I’m quite excited, yes, both for the food, and the arrangements of lotuses. A shame they can’t grow in Hoshido, but I can’t say the cherry blossoms aren’t something to look at either.”

“They are lovely, just like the roses from Nohr.”

Sumeragi nods, and crosses his arms. He gives a teasing smile, and says, “So, any suitors asking Freyja for your hand?”

Karuna blushes, and shakes her head. “No, nothing like that. I’m pretty busy helping her and Latham. I don’t believe there’s time for courtship of any kind.” Especially with her bland personality, but she isn’t here to be pitied.

“Nonsense!” He grins. “You are a kind and wise woman. Serenity brings out your natural beauty as well. If a man hasn’t asked for your hand yet, then he’s either blind or a fool.”

She smiles, and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re too generous in your compliments, Sumeragi. I might confuse you for Garon.”

At that, Sumeragi laughs. “No, I don’t think anyone would confuse me with that old goat.”

“And why not? You’re not so young yourself.” Garon saunters up to them, hands behind his back. Though he isn’t smiling, his face is relaxed, a hint of mirth at the corner of his lips. “Your hair has greyed more than mine.”

“Doubtful. But we’re not here to have a contest on who looks the most decrepit, are we?”

Garon hums in agreement. “Lady Karuna, you ought to speak up more. I didn’t even know you were present until Freyja pointed it out. It’s lovely to see you again.” He takes her hand and kisses the top of it. “You haven’t aged a day since I last saw you.”

Karuna smiles, and gently pulls her hand back. “Hasn’t been that long. You were here for Egeria’s first birthday, after all. And that was only, what, 3 or 4 months ago?”

“But so much can change in that time. I’m glad to see you haven’t, in more ways than one.”

“Can’t help yourself, can you?” Katerina walks up from behind him, as does Ikona and Freyja. “I’ve got my eye on you, old fart.” 

“Is that any way to greet your husband?” Garon asks calmly, with an eyebrow raise. He doesn’t sound the least bit angry, and takes Katerina’s hand, kissing her knuckles. “Though I suppose at this point, it’s more of a term of endearment.”

“If you want it to be, then yes.”

“Hmm.”

“Now both of you, shoo.” She waves her hand at Garon and Sumeragi. “I’ve missed having Karuna around. Go do your manly bonding with Latham, or kingly bonding, or whatever it is you men do on your own.”

Sumeragi and Garon don’t protest; they excuse themselves, and walk away to the other side of the room, probably to indulge the archduchess of Izumo (who is waving frantically) with their company. Katerina gives a toothy grin, and brings Karuna into a big hug. “You might have to start wearing something bright like a fuchsia gown! Always so quiet.” 

“Nothing wrong with that,” Ikona interjects. “Karuna is a dear and doesn’t have an obnoxiously boisterous laugh like you do.”

Katerina laughs said boisterous laugh, probably on purpose. Ikona shakes her head, a small smile gracing her fine lips. Freyja offers a chuckle. “We ought to get away to the southern isles sometime.”

“Oh that’ll be the day.” Katerina huffs. “Always something to do in Nohr, but I can’t say I hate having so much responsibility.”

“Have the Dragon Veins eaten up more of the land?”

“Yeah, unfortunately.” Her face sobers, and she crosses her arms. “We can’t figure out how that happened in the first place, but it’s undoubtedly the cause for our bad harvests. I’ve used Brynhildr to restore the ones I can, but the rest would require both myself and Garon, coupled with who knows how many more of the royal family, to stabilize it. One day we’ll figure out why the Dragon Veins are draining the land instead of improving it, but no luck so far.” 

“I believe you will find a solution sooner or later,” Ikona offers kindly. “We’ve never had something like that happen in Hoshido, but I’ll see if there’s something in the royal archives about ill effects of the Dragon Veins.” 

“Thanks, Ikona.”

“I’ll help as well,” Freyja added. “Maybe all the Veins have an expiration if they’re not used properly, and begin to deplete the land rather than sustain it.”

“Speaking of dragons,” Katerina cocks her head to one side, “how’s it going with the last of the ancient ones?”

Freyja scowls. “He’s been contained, and can’t cause anymore harm, or so we hope.” She looks off to Latham, frown deepening. His missing arm and eye don’t hinder his optimism, but Karuna knows Freyja wishes he didn’t have to suffer the way he did trying to talk sense into an old friend. Especially for such a young king.

“But let’s not talk about that beast.” She spits the last word, and then composes herself. “How is Alexander doing, Katerina?”

“Oh he’s such a _shy_ boy!” She smiles, looking fondly at the ceiling. “He seems to be comfortable only around me. Other children his age he shrinks away from for whatever reason, and sometimes even his father. I’ve no clue how he got that way since neither Garon nor I were ever shy. But my little Xander is the sweetest thing, always picking flowers for his mum. He’ll be 4 this year, just in time for our annual October harvest festival.” Katerina smiles at the three of them. “I’ll send an invitation in August. You’ll come too, right Ikona?”

Ikona nods. “Most likely. I’d bring Ryoma, but they never did get along, did they?”

“You think my laugh’s boisterous? Your son is the definition of it. I like his energy though. Only 4 and he’s ready to fight anything that moves!” Katerina pats (more of a gentle slap) Ikona on the back. “Think the Pegasi mixed them up when they were babies?” she jokes.

“Hardly,” Ikona says with a crooked smile. “He’ll be like his father someday. And as for Alexander, well we can only pray he isn’t as rambunctious as his mother and doesn’t overdue it on the rum. His gentleness is already a sign of good fortune.”

“You wound me, Ikona.” Katerina puts a hand to her chest, and fakes a frown. Then she looks to Freyja, and asks, “So, you know me: I like to cut to the chase. Is there a future between your Egeria and my Xander when they’re old enough to be wed? Uniting the kingdoms of Valla and Nohr?”

Ikona gasps softly. “Oh, but I was just about to ask the same for Ryoma!”

“I foresee a duel of courtship in our son’s futures, Ikona. Good luck to them both.”

“Perhaps. Ryoma will be of age first though, and as soon as the May of his 15th birthday rolls around, you can bet I’ll begin to visit Valla more often with him alongside me.”

“Now ladies,” Freyja says, stepping in between them, “I have the final say in everything, don’t I? I _am_ Egeria’s mother, after all. And while a continuing alliance with either nation would be ideal, I’d want her to marry for love. I’ll let her choose whether she wants to wed Xander or Ryoma when the time comes. Whoever she picks is my final decision.”

“Royals don’t marry for love,” Ikona states, “but duty. They marry for whatever will benefit their kingdom more.”

“True, but in this case, my daughter can possibly have both. Had this been an ideal world, she could marry a peasant for all I care. Alas, we make do with what we can.”

Ikona hums, and slips her arms within the sleeves of her kimono. It’s no secret that all noble and royal families have arranged marriages. Katerina’s was arranged because her father was a duke who owned a few acres of fertile land. That, and her bold personality caught Garon’s eye. Unfortunately, he has a habit of wandering his eyes, and as a consequence, Katerina had to (and continues to) endure him charming any beautiful woman he sees enter his court. He has a couple of children with concubines already, though she settles with her situation knowing she’s the only queen, and the woman he values above them all. 

When asked if she holds a loathing for the illegitimate offspring, her reply is always, “Not the children’s fault they were born. Don’t see why they have to suffer my scorn.”

As for Ikona, she married Sumeragi when he was 30 and she, 18. Sad in her case, in that Ikona fell in love with one of the boys who took care of the Kinshi birds her family is known for, and the ones specifically bred for Hoshido’s military. They were able to keep their love and secret strolls hushed, but her father, one of the daimyos of Hoshido, had a sharper eye than she thought. Needless to say, he arranged her marriage with Sumeragi unknown to her, and was wed two weeks later. The Kinshi boy was let go, whereabouts and status unknown. To this day, Ikona still hasn’t forgiven her father.

Partly why Karuna hasn’t had an interest in marrying is for the sole reason she won’t get to choose her suitor. She can’t imagine living the rest of her life with a man she doesn’t love. Being the royal advisor is fine enough, and she doesn’t need more than that. Her family is within Castle Gyges, and she never considers for a second living anywhere else. 

Katerina adjusts her cloak, lined with fur at the edges. “I better start preparing then. On the bright side, whoever doesn’t have the honor of having Egeria’s hand, can always marry your second-born.”

Freyja laughs, and shakes her head. “Oh no, one child is fine. I don’t like to be incapacitated for almost a whole year. I lost precious training time and Karuna had to take up several of my responsibilities. Besides, I want to give all my attention to Egeria so she becomes the fine lady she’s destined to be.”

She grabs the pendant hanging from her neck. Encased within the gold flourish frame is a blue stone that shimmers like a gem. “I need to teach her the song and dance, after all. Latham can’t do it, and so I must.”

Both Katerina and Ikona stare at the pendant, a look of understanding crossing their features. “Well,” Ikona starts, glancing to Karuna, “then perhaps your baby sister will have her own little one sometime, yes? Either Ryoma or Xander could take her daughter’s hand, if that’s what the gods decide to bless her with.”

“Oh,” Karuna waves her hands, smiling sheepishly, “no, that’s not possible.”

“Why?”

Because standing in front of the three queens, Karuna is nothing compared to them. In value and in aesthetics—dark, bobbed hair, and dull brown eyes—she’s easily forgotten, and easily ignored. Karuna can’t compete with the golden strength and valor of Katerina, not with the vivid beauty and grace of Ikona, and especially not with the glistening wisdom and skill of Freyja. 

She’s merely a support beam that is the kingdom of Valla, and even if it breaks, there are plenty to keep it standing without her.

“No man has proven he’s good enough for her yet,” Freyja says when Karuna remains silent. “The day he does appear will be when the world begins to deteriorate.”

Though her sister means it in the nicest way possible, Karuna wishes she would’ve worded that differently.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


For the rest of the evening, the banquet goes as planned. The food is delicious, the music merry, and the nobles satiated and entertained. Freyja graces them all with her melodious voice and fluid dancing, twirling water around her, as is common for the Vallite royal family.

Karuna is forgotten again near the moss-covered pillar, and decides to take a stroll in the gardens to lift her mood. Usually her retainers would accompany her, but they’re busy tending to their new bundle of joy elsewhere in the castle. It’s quiet and fresh when she steps foot outside. The moon highlights the walls of the garden and glistens along the creeks and ponds. Karuna occasionally passes by other castle staff or nobles, though few notice her.

Valla is cloaked in the serenity of the night as she looks through one of the peep holes in the wall. It’s then she notices the moonlight catching on something near the river at the mouth of the castle. It drags itself from out of the water before collapsing on the bank.

Karuna looks around, though nobody else seems to have seen it. The lump is shaped like a human, and if they had been drowning or wounded, they might not live much longer. As a princess of Valla, she can’t allow that to sit on her conscience.

Hurriedly she makes her way out of the garden and down the winding steps. Some soldiers notice her and ask what she’s doing. She doesn’t give them an explanation, but they follow her anyway, perhaps out of duty to protect her.

When she makes it to the mouth of the river, she’s out of breath. Castle Gyges doesn’t have nearly as many steps as Shirasagi Castle, but it’s enough that a soldier helps her stand until she’s found the air in her lungs again.

“Princess Karuna, what is so urgent that you had to rush out of the castle, on banquet night nonetheless?” he asks.

“That.” She points to the lump and walks toward it. Already the bow is drawn from one of the soldiers, another has her sword at the ready. “Let’s not attack it until we know what it is, yes?” 

_It_ doesn’t move, so she crouches and turns it over. Then the lump—the _man_ , groans. He has nicks and bruises, but doesn’t have any visible fatal injuries. Still, it wouldn’t do well to leave him outside at night, especially when he could be eaten alive by a wyvern or some other creature.

“Help me take him back to the castle,” Karuna says. “He needs medical attention.”

“M-My lady,” starts the other soldier, “are you sure that’s wise? We know nothing about him.”

“It’s my duty as princess to care for the kingdom, including this fellow.”

The soldiers stare at each other a moment before putting their weapons away and helping Karuna carry the man. He’s not too heavy with their combined strength, but his brown wet cloak is needlessly adding to their struggle.

When they reach the castle, they avoid the throne room and enter through the dungeons, a door known only to the soldiers and the royal family. At least this way, it’ll look as if they’re having a prisoner transferred somewhere instead of suspiciously bringing a stranger inside.

Unfortunately, the dungeons are at the bottom-most level of Gyges, and the royal chambers near the top. As a result, Karuna and the two soldiers take quick breaks of a matter of seconds every now and then as they travel the hallways, before carrying the unconscious man to the royal wing.

“Forgive me for speaking out of line,” the bow user says, “but I think he’d be better in the regular infirmary, don’t you agree, milady? The royal chambers—yours even, doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“I have to agree,” the other speaks up. “What if he’s some sort of spy? You could be asleep, and he could harm you for all we know.”

Karuna sighs soundlessly. She can’t exactly tell them they’re in the wrong when what they say makes a lot of sense. “Very well. If he’s moved to the infirmary, you promise not to say anything to my sister or Latham?”

“Yes, milady.” 

The soldiers help her quickly move the man to the infirmary. The downside is they had already passed that floor, and so struggle with the stairs and hallways yet again. Once inside their destination, they go to an empty cot toward the back, and lay the man down.

“Thank you,” Karuna says, “but I can take it from here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. You two need to get back to your posts, after all.” 

When the soldiers leave, Karuna begins her work. She lights a nearby lantern with a short incantation of fire magic, and then gets out the medical utensils. Some healers come by and curiously ask her business, to which she says they needn’t pay any mind to it. Just another Vallite needing assistance.

If there’s one thing Karuna will always be confident about, it’s her skill with healing. She’s studied the majority of herbs from neighboring lands, and has a reservoir of magic prowess that helps her endure the (sometimes) strenuous healing process with staves and rods. From the common cold to severed limbs, she knows how to take care of them all. 

The man is still unconscious after she cleans up his wounds. She has one of the male healers change him out of his wet clothing into some plain spares, standard for the infirmary. Karuna places a blanket over him, hoping it’ll bring his temperature back up.

It’s then she notices his ears.

While the same size as hers, they taper to a point at the top. The earlobes are lightly rigged. There’s also a small and oblong red gem embedded in his forehead. It stands out against his blue bangs and hair that fans out on the pillow.

If she has to guess, he’s not human. Or at least, not completely. 

But he has no visible fangs or fur like the elusive tribes of wolfskin or kitsune. No claws or pointed nails either. Maybe he’s a mage, and a spell went wrong causing him to look as he does?

He is handsome though, she’ll admit that much.

Karuna doesn’t know how long she can keep this stranger’s presence a secret. The healers already saw him, and no doubt Freyja will find out soon, probably tomorrow. Gossip travels fast within castles, after all.

She’s going to get scolded, but she doesn’t feel too bad about the possibility. After all, she has no answers for Freyja as to who this man is, so she technically didn’t do anything wrong. Karuna only hopes the man has a soul worth saving, and no regret would come on her part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is my first work for _Fire Emblem: Fates_ , so I hope it goes over well. For my returning readers of the previous fandom I wrote for, be aware this story will have spoilers for the game if you haven't already played it! For readers (returning or new) who know the game, I've taken some creative liberties with all three parts.
> 
> I decided to attempt this hefty endeavor because despite the... awful writing of the game overall, I think it could've had potential to be an engaging story if given more care. That's what I hope to accomplish by the end of it all without unnecessarily dragging it on.
> 
> Part 1 has little to no romance, as I wanted to focus more on familial and platonic bonds here. I hope I'm successful in illustrating that. (I'm also sad the moms in this story got so little in the game itself.)
> 
> Unlike Nohr and Hoshido which are essentially fantasy medieval Europe and fantasy feudal Japan, Valla is a little trickier. Even having played the game a few times (all routes), I still can't figure it out. Based on the themes and designs of Valla, I adapted to making it a mix of fantasy Scandinavian and Indian influence. Kind of. I tried my best, ha ha.
> 
> This story will be updated every other day.
> 
> Well, hope you liked Chapter 1, and I'll see everyone again very soon. Also so I don't have to say it every chapter: thank you so much for reading and/or leaving a comment! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	2. II

As she had feared, her sister finds out about the mysterious man.

He isn’t there when Karuna goes to the infirmary the next morning. A healer tells her Freyja had him detained in one the holding cells of the dungeon. “She also said,” the woman begins reluctantly, “to tell you she requests your presence in her private study.”

Oh, she’s going to get a verbal lashing. She just knows it.

“Thank you. I’ll see to my sister immediately. But, how was the man? Was he faring well?”

“Last we checked on him, yes.”

Karuna nods, and then heads through the winding corridors to her sister’s study. She steels herself for the oncoming criticism, straightening her posture, and then knocks hesitantly on the door. Freyja’s voice bellows through, “What? Who is it?”

“Me, sister.”

“Come in.”

Freyja is at the open window near her desk, arms crossed over her chest. She gives Karuna a stern glance. “I expect a good explanation for why a vagabond at best, and assassin at worst, was brought into the castle, by your own hands apparently.”

“He was dying by the river last night,” Karuna offers, closing the door. “I couldn’t let him drown or have some animal eat him while he’s unconscious. I’d never sleep if I let that happen when I could’ve done something to help.”

Sighing, Freyja replies, “You should’ve cleared it with me first. We have nobles from all over staying in this castle. What if he was sent here to assassinate one of them? Then we’d have a skirmish on our hands, or worse: a war.”

“But he hasn’t done so, has he?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you that suspicious of him? We don’t even know his name.”

“Nor does he look like any person or shapeshifter I’ve seen. Even more concerning.” Freya gives her a hard stare. “He will stay in the dungeons until our guests leave. Then, we shall deal with him.”

“What of his injuries or food?”

“Standard care for a prisoner. And nothing but some gruel and a bread roll.”

“Oh sister—”

Freyja holds up a hand. “No. And don’t think about sneaking him any of our delicacies or treats. Please, Karuna. I’m only looking out for you, and the welfare of our people. I won’t let him shrivel away, but he will be examined thoroughly before he’s admitted to anywhere else in the castle. Latham agrees with me, so don’t try to persuade him.”

Queen’s word is law, and so Karuna leaves it at that.

Still, she frequently asks the prison guards how the man is doing. They were instructed by Freyja to not let her anywhere near the cells, but they’re generous enough to inform her of his health. For the remainder of the lotus banquet, Karuna entertains what nobles notice her. Sumeragi is really the only one who pays her any attention, aside from Katerina and Ikona. 

He finds her in the gardens on a small bridge as she stares aimlessly at the pond below. A frog croaks on a lily pad before jumping into the still waters, startling the koi. When the garden had been first built, way before she or Freyja were born, Hoshido had given two koi as a gift to the then king, her grandfather. It was a symbol of their alliance, and hope that there will always be peace between the two kingdoms.

“You seem troubled, Karuna,” Sumeragi begins.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“I can lend an ear if you’d like.”

She smiles slightly. “No, really, I’m okay.”

“You certain?”

“Well,” she folds her fingers together, fiddling with them, “I just feel like Freyja sometimes doesn’t leave room for multiple possibilities or perspectives.”

“Oh?”

Karuna can’t admit to letting a strange man onto the premises. What will Sumeragi think of her then? How careless and naïve she’d be in his eyes. The last thing she wants to do is alarm him or his company. Better to go with something he already knows.

“She’s very distrusting,” she says instead, “and makes quick judgements. Freyja isn’t a bad ruler—she’s wonderful, actually. I’m proud of how she’s governed our kingdom. But…”

“You wish she was a little more compassionate.”

“Maybe.” Karuna hugs herself, turning her glance away from him and back to the pond. “It’s like with the Ancient One: yes, he burned down one of our forests and a village. It was an absolute tragedy. But she doesn’t understand that he’s been alive for too long; he’s growing mad, and is struggling to regain control of himself. That’s how all his kind are—why they all ascended before they were overcome with it. We should be looking into how to relieve him of his suffering, help him figure out why he can’t ascend, without giving him a brutal death.”

“Latham tried that, and lost his arm and an eye.”

“I know.”

Sumeragi stares at her, then, “Your kindness and open mind is admirable, Karuna. But sometimes, rulers have to make difficult decisions. Freyja is only doing what’s best for her people—for Hoshido and Nohr too. Had she, Latham, and the mages not cast that binding spell on the Ancient One, he would’ve wrecked all of Valla, eventually moving onto its neighboring kingdoms.”

“There just has to be another way to solve this than just keeping him bound. For centuries he’s done so much for us humans, and we don’t bother to lift a finger to help when he really needs it. Is he to stay alive forever, suffering and in pain? That’s not humane.”

“No, but we know little of the ancient dragons. They weren’t very open to sharing facts about their kind. People of my land didn’t even discover all there was to of the Dawn Dragon when she was still alive. They are beings beyond our complete understanding.” He pauses, giving her a curious look. “What brought up this conversation with your sister, might I ask?”

“It was nothing really. Just a thought I’ve been having for the longest time.”

“Did you try to see him before?”

“Freyja wouldn’t let me make the trek with her to his cavern. I had to run the castle while she and Latham were casting the spell.” 

“Had you ever seen him before?”

Karuna shakes her head. “No. But everyone who has says he’s horrifying. Bigger than the castle, and as grotesque as a rotting corpse. The old tomes describe him looking differently, so maybe his madness altered his appearence.”

“Perhaps.”

They make idle chatter after that, and then Sumeragi invites her to visit Hoshido within the coming months. “Ryoma would be happy to see you,” he says with a smile. “Grown quite fond of you. Even asks Ikona or myself when you’re coming back to visit.” 

“Well, how can I say no to such a request? If it’s for little Ryoma, I’ll drop by for a while.”

She spends the rest of the day chatting with Sumeragi in the garden until they’re called to dinner. Despite being several years his junior, she always feels relaxed when chatting with him. He’s a much better conversationalist than Garon, at least.

Next morning, she sees off the nobles with Freyja and Latham, wishing them all well on their journeys back to their homelands. Karuna waits by the throne later that afternoon, knowing Freyja always passes through there on her usual queenly strolls around the castle. Purely business, but sometimes her sister also needs time for herself just to think.

“I know what you want,” she says tiredly when she arrives, “and I’ll have him brought up to this very room. Only reason why I’m even here. The interrogation went well, as far as it could’ve gone anyway. He isn’t a threat, but his amnesia is too convenient. He doesn’t know his name or where he came from, or what he even is.”

“All the more reason to give him a chance.”

“Your kindness might be your downfall one day. Be careful, little sister.” 

The man is brought to the throne room shortly after, still wearing his infirmary garbs. They’re shoddy and dirty, and he himself looks worse for wear. The guards hold him by the arms and have him on his knees in front of Freyja. Karuna takes her place beside her, right by the throne’s armrest.

“I won’t beg,” he starts, voice dry. “But I swear, I mean you no harm. I don’t even remember how I ended up here.”

“As you’ve said already.” Freyja crosses one leg over the other, hands folded atop her knees. “Do you know where you are?”

“No.”

“This is Castle Gyges, in the great kingdom of Valla. The only reason you’re still alive is because the high princess, Karuna, has a merciful heart.”

The man looks to Karuna, eyes wide. It’s strange that his pupils are slit like a serpent’s, but what catches her attention is the golden hue of his irises. She tilts her head slightly, gazing into them.  _They’re so beautiful…._

“You owe her your life,” Freyja says, breaking Karuna out of her trance, “so never forget your gratitude to her. While my mages have determined you’re not a threat, I still don’t trust you to roam about the kingdom all willy-nilly. Therefore, you will be confined to the castle as a stable hand. The gryphons and horses can always use more caring to.”

Freyja stands up from her throne and descends the dais. “Take him to get cleaned up,” she nods to the guards, “and then direct him to the stables. Let the foreman know he’s going to be working with them. Thank you, gentlemen.” 

“Of course, your majesty,” they say in unison, bowing. Both guards haul up the man to his feet and escort him away. He gives a glance over his shoulder, brilliant eyes fixed on Karuna, and then he’s gone. That poor man doesn’t know his name, what he is, or where he comes from. He must be lost and confused, maybe even lonely. Perhaps she should follow them for supervision.

“Don’t even think about it,” Freyja says to her without missing a beat, as if she could read minds. But maybe being sisters as close and as long as they have might as well be the same thing. “We have a meeting to attend to. Come.”

“Yes, of course.” Karuna matches her steps to the council’s chambers along the next floor. They’re both silent, only giving a friendly greeting to guards or servants nearby.

“Thank you, for what you did back there.”

Freyja turns to her. “For what?”

“Giving that man a chance.”

She stares at Karuna silently, then looks straight ahead. “I’ve got to be honest with you. At times I feel like you’re not cut out to rule responsibly. Not because I think you an imbecile, but because you’re so forgiving and trusting. I rule in hopes for a better Vallite future, and also to be your role model. But, I realize time and again that there are things I can learn from you as well. I wouldn’t be a good queen if I remained rigged in my ways, and neither would I be a good sister.”

“That means a lot to me, Freyja. Thank you.”

Freyja nods, the tiniest of smiles on her painted lips. “You have a kind heart, Karuna. See to it that nobody tries to bleed it dry.”

“I will, I promise.”

When Karuna sleeps that night, she dreams of an amber sun, and fields of gold wheat. Poppies bloom along an endless sea of blue grass, and the beetles shimmer like rubies. She doesn’t know what to make of it when she wakes up, and fears Freyja might find her childish, should she recount the imagery. She’d say she’s been reading too many of her novels, and would suggest to pick up a study tome for a change.

If Sumeragi were here, he’d laugh in good humor, and make a poem about it. Maybe even paint it as a gift for Karuna, complimenting her on a vivid imagination instead.

Life goes on in a routine after that. She hasn’t had any contact with the mysterious man since he was taken away. Until today.

During another meeting, the council frustrates her more than usual. They speak nonsense about how to handle the Ancient One, and talk about him as if they don’t owe their lives to the centuries past he provided for older generations of Vallites. She wanders out to the gardens in a huff at first, but eventually decides to take a detour instead. Freyja or somebody else will attempt to find her there otherwise. 

Karuna roams off further out of the sandstone confines of Gyges, and finds herself at the hill where horses and gryphons are raised. Extremely wide at the base, it tapers to a smaller point at the top. It’s almost like a miniature mountain; shaped like the crest of a wave, with a cliff on one side. The stables for the horses are kept at the bottom, and at the top is where the gryphons are bred and roost.

Some stable hands greet her as she passes by or whenever she takes a moment to pet the animals. The horses nudge into her palm, and the gryphons make a noise between a purr and a coo.

A flash of blue catches the corner of her eye, and she turns to where the mysterious man is leading a horse back into its enclosure.

“Hello there,” she greets as she walks up to him, hands behind her back. 

The man jumps and turns quickly. His hair is out of his face now, tied in a long ponytail that drapes over his back. A strip of cloth is wrapped around his forehead, perhaps to hide his gemstone. Blue bangs hang out from above and underneath the cloth. Gone are the infirmary rags, replaced with the standard ensemble of slacks, boots, and a shirt with long sleeves. The collar is cut open and loosely stitched three times across, as is the handlers’ fashion.

“O-Oh, milady.” He bows, the reigns of the horse still in his hand. “Hello. What, um, brings you here?”

“Just out on a stroll. Found myself here. Needed to find a place to breathe away from the council.”

“I take it being a royal isn’t easy?”

“We’re well off and want for nothing, but the cost of it is making sure the land is properly maintained and the people safe. We wouldn’t deserve it otherwise. I don’t mind helping out the king and queen, but I clash heads sometimes with the council.” 

“Ah, I see.” He smiles awkwardly. “I, um, wouldn’t know.” 

“Yes, I suppose not.” She watches him lead the horse through the gate, and gently jiggle its reigns off. He pats it on the thigh and it goes running to join some of its other friends. “How are you doing here?” 

“Fine, I guess. I learn quickly enough that I don’t get yelled at like some others. But, I haven’t made friends for that reason. And, well…” He looks down at his muddy boots, rubbing a spot on the cloth where his gemstone is hidden. He doesn’t say anything, only frowns at the dirt between his feet.

“Do they make fun of you?” Karuna asks.

“They think I’m strange. But I can’t blame them. I don’t even know who or what I am.” He looks up at her, golden eyes warm. “I never thanked you for saving me. I’m eternally indebted to you, princess.” He bows again, and Karuna flushes.

“O-Oh, well, you’re welcome. It’s my duty as princess to make sure all our citizens are cared for. I’m sorry that you were thrown in the dungeon. I don’t always have pull with my sister.”

“It helped knowing I wasn’t in there to be executed,” he says lightly. The man quickly clears his throat. “Um, should you be out in the sun at this time of day?”

“I’ll be fine. Sometimes I come out here to paint, or read. I find daylight is better than candlelight or fire magic.”

“You paint? Really?” He traces the grooves of the wood along the horse enclosure. “That’s amazing.”

“Not really.” Karuna tucks a lock of hair behind her. “There are much better artists than me. But it’s a hobby, so I enjoy doing it.” He smiles at her, full attention, eyes brilliant with curiosity. Karuna flushes deeper, and asks, “Have you remembered anything of your past?”

The man’s smile falls, and he looks to the ground again. “No, unfortunately. I try hard, and even hope my dreams would tell me something. But nothing comes to me; I don’t even dream, I think. Or if I do, I can’t remember them.”

“Can you at least remember your name?”

He shakes his head. “Not even that. My overseer has just resorted to calling me ‘boy’ or ‘Blue’.” The man purses his lips, looking away for a moment. Then he turns to Karuna, and says, “But, perhaps you could give me a name?”

“Me? Why?” 

“You found me, and you’re,” he scratches the back of his head, “the only one actually civil with me. I-I know it’s an odd request, but, it’d help if my name had meaning, and not something that can be so casually thrown away.”

Karuna thinks for a moment, looking him over, then quickly glances away. No need to give him machinations about what she may or may not be thinking. “Well,” she starts, “I don’t have one right now. I’d have to think about it. Is that alright?”

“Of course, yes.” Somebody yells in the distance, and the man jumps again. “I better go. It was nice speaking with you, your highness.”

“Likewise. And please, just call me Karuna.” 

“No, oh no I couldn’t….”

She smiles at him. “It’ll be fine, I promise. If anybody asks, you can always tell them to talk to me. I’ll make sure they know you don’t mean it as disrespect.”

“Well then, Karuna,” and her name on his lips has her heart oddly fluttering, “thank you again for saving me. Have a wonderful rest of the day, milady.” Then he walks away—runs, really, and almost trips over a rock—to the foreman who’s looking about ready to burst in a scolding. 

The rest of her day she has a skip to her step. Freyja looks at her oddly at dinner, though doesn’t comment on it.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


“I’ve got it.”

She sets down her book on the table, standing suddenly, and Freyja looks up at her curiously from her own tome. “Sister, what are you talking about?”

They routinely sit together in the gazebo of the garden, either for tea, or to read in each’s others company. Mutual, comfortable silence is a welcome reprieve from the frustration of council meetings and court hosting.

“Oh.” Karuna closes her book gently, and replies, “That man has asked me to give him a name, since he doesn’t have one.” 

Freyja shakes her head, and focuses back on her tome. “You’re getting too attached to him.” 

“How is that? I haven’t even spoken to him in a good month or so.”

“I’ve seen the flowers in your room and in your study.” Freyja turns the page. “They’re the ones that grow near the shack where he stays.”

She flushes. “Yes, but, I haven’t actually seen him. I only know he sends them to me because he knows I like to paint, and they’re a good study. You’re always telling me it’s a horrible idea to paint outside in the evenings. This way, you don’t have to worry about me going there where somebody can attack me.”

“A little too convenient,” Freyja replies, still not looking up from her book. “Though, I won’t bother you anymore about it. You’re free to make friends with whoever, but also smart enough to exert a level of caution. Or that’s what I’d like to hope.”

“You can trust me.”

“I pray that remains a fact in the future, Karuna.”

She isn’t so stupid or gullible that she’d get involved with the wrong kind of people. The mysterious man had been nothing but kind to her since they first spoke. He doesn’t even remember anything, for goodness sakes.

They say the eyes are the window to one’s soul. Whenever Karuna looks into his, she can’t fathom he’d be anything other than a good person. Of course, that still doesn’t explain why her heart beats twice as fast around him. She’s known several good people all her life, but none like this.

(Karuna does have one assumption about it, but prefers it stays in the storybooks.)

Evening comes around, and this time Karuna makes sure she’s there when the man delivers the flowers to her.

“O-Oh,” he straightens himself, a modest freshly-picked bouquet in his hands, “milady. I didn’t expect to see you here. Don’t you have dinner at this time with their royal majesties?” 

“Yes, but I can make an exception for tonight.” She invites him inside to her study, and tells the patrol guards there’s no cause for alarm. Karuna takes the flowers from the man and places them in a turquoise vase. The petals are a bright orange, the stems a brilliant green.

“Is this from last time?” the man asks, looking at her easel in one corner. “It’s really nice.”

“Finished it just yesterday. I have another one similar, but in a different medium.”

She takes a scroll from her desk and unrolls it. A series of elegant brush strokes grace the paper, illustrating the exact same still life as the one on canvas, except much more fluid and lively. The man stares at it, and then back at the canvas. 

“You really are talented.”

“It’s mostly practice.” Her cheeks warm anyway. “The one on canvas was done with Nohrian oil paints, and the one on the scroll I used Hoshidan ink blocks. Each one offers something different to the piece. I can’t decide which one I like more, really.” 

The man smiles, admiring both. “With this paint one, the colors are more brilliant, and with the ink, the contours of the flowers stand out better than the first. But both breathe life into them in their own ways, and I think that’s beautiful.”

He turns to look at her, and, (perhaps because of her flushed face), quickly looks away, his ears reddening. “Um, so, well… I hope you like the fresh batch of flowers I brought you. I’ll just be on my way then.”

“Wait,” she sets aside the scroll, “I have it.” 

“Have… what?”

“Your name.”

The man stops just as he’s reaching for the doorknob. “You do?” 

Karuna takes a book from the shelf, the one she had been reading that day with Freyja in the garden. Her fingers glide against the spine, feather light. “There is a story I enjoy reading. And one of the characters reminds me of you.”

She gestures to the chairs near the window. Hesitantly, the man sits down, and she opposite of him. “I must read and write regularly, as is demanding of my station. But I also like to read for leisure. Freyja studies her magic and things, and while I’m no slouch when it comes to my own training, I do like to immerse myself in tales of adventure for leisure.”

“Is that one of the adventure books you like to read?” 

“Yes. I’ve read it a hundred times, but it never gets old. That’s what so great about it.” She holds it out to him, and he handles it like he would an infant. “Do you know how to read?” 

He flips through the pages, slowly shaking his head. “Well, at least I know one thing about myself for sure: I can’t read, or write. But it does sound like a nice skill. What’s the story about?”

Karuna tells him the tale of a young boy who wakes up one day out in a field. He doesn’t remember who he is, but his instincts tell him to follow the river. When he follows it for long enough, he comes to a village at the edge of a kingdom. Nobody can help him there, as they don’t know who he is, but the orphanage takes him in anyway.

As he grows, he finds himself drawn to carving. Any piece of wood he finds, he would carve into little statues that the other kids like to play with. He eventually works as a carpenter, until the village is burned down by bandits. The young man is one of the few to survive, having fought off some ruffians with nothing but a wooden sword and sheild he had made.

She goes on to explain how, after several mishaps that led him to wander from town to town, he eventually becomes a knight, falls in love with a princess, fights in a war, gets revenge for his village, and then finds out he’s actually a long-lost prince who had been kidnapped from a neighboring kingdom. He is welcomed back into his royal family with open arms, marries the princess, and lives happily ever after.

“He sounds much more gallant than I am though,” the man says, scratching his cheek.

“I know you’re not in exactly the same scenario, but his character is what reminded me of you. He was a good person throughout the whole story, overcoming trial after trial. Even despite all his pain. Though he never got his memories back, he eventually found his place in the world. And I think that you will too, someday.”

“You really think I’m a good person, Karuna?”

“My gut tells me that you are, and I don’t often like to doubt it.”

The man smiles, cradling the book in his hands. “Would you—I know this is a lot to ask, especially for somebody of your class, but… would it be a bother if you taught me how to read?” 

Karuna pats his arm. “Of course not. I’ll visit you at the stables every day, and we can read bit by bit when we’re both free.” 

“Thank you. I really do appreciate it.”

A knock comes from the door. The guards politely tell her it’s late and that the man needs to go back to his shack. Karuna groans. Her sister really didn’t jest when she said she’d keep an eye on him at all times.

“I um,” he gets up, setting the book down on the chair, “I guess I better go.”

“It appears so.” Karuna walks him to the door. “But how about we start lessons sometime tomorrow? After midday will be fine with me.”

“Yes, that sounds good.” He nods, and then reaches for the door. Pausing, he turns around to ask, “Oh, you never told me that hero’s name—the name you decided to give me. What is it?”

“Janus.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always wondered why gryphons weren't in _Fates_ like they were in _Awakening_ , but the other mounts remained. So I justified it here in this story by gryphons being a Valla-only animal. Just like Nohr has the wyverns and Hoshido has the Kinshi birds. In general, I just wish Valla got more expansion in the canon....
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	3. III

She waits until after lunch to begin lessons with Janus. The stable hands are busiest in the mornings with having to prepare the mounts for their riders: trim the talons on the gryphons, clean the horseshoes, brush out fine manes and feathers—well, she wouldn’t want to bother him at that time.

Karuna sets everything in a satchel and carries it with her to the stables. Along the way she runs into one of her retainers, Birger, a gryphon rider highly skilled with lances and other spears. His blond hair is almost as brilliant as his green eyes and his smile.

“Milady!” he greets happily. “Good afternoon. What are you up to?”

“I’m going to visit someone.”

“Ah, the man with the pointed ears? They call him Blue.”

Does _everyone_ know of Karuna’s interest in befriending him? Freyja’s disdain must be famous around the kingdom at this point, all things considered.

“Yes well, now his name is Janus,” she replies politely. “He asked me to teach him how to read and write, and so I shall.”

Birger walks with her to the stables, carrying the satchel for her. They pass by other groundskeepers and soldiers, or the servants out on their daily routines. All of them greet Karuna and Birger with pleasant smiles, before busying themselves again with their tasks.

“Is that such a good idea?” he asks, throwing the satchel over his back. 

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”

“Well, uh,” he looks away, and bites his lip, “your sister had said—”

“Oh I’m aware of her thoughts, don’t worry. But I trust Janus. And you of all people should know I can handle myself just fine in combat.”

Both her retainers are often witness to her training, sometimes even her sparring partners. Karuna doesn’t like sitting around doing nothing. While nobles tend to recline in their posh and comfortable abodes (or most of them, at least), she figures she ought to train herself not only in healing magic, but offensive magic. Archery too, should a tome not be readily available, or should her stamina for magic run out.

After all, she’s the second in line to the throne if anything happens to Freyja, Latham, and Egeria. It’s best Valla knows all of its rulers are powerful enough to protect them in times of crisis.

“I don’t doubt that, milady,” he quickly adds, “and I never insinuated such a thing. But I just—well I’m sorry. I can’t help but worry. I’ve been your retainer for a few years already, and—”

“Yes, I know. You and Mica have grown quite fond of me,” Karuna pats him on the arm, “as I have grown of you both. I promise you: should I need assistance, you will be the first one I call to. How’s that?”

Birger gives a relieved smile. “Yes, of course, milady.”

“Good, good.” Karuna continues on, the gryphons in the distance now flying up into the sky for their daily exercise. Some of the horses are being let out of the stables to roam around, or to have their usual grooming done. “How are Mica and the baby doing?” 

“Oh!” He grins the widest she’s seen of him today, a rosy tint on his cheeks. “They’re fine. Our son cries for hours at a time at night, so it can get a little frustrating. And we do miss our station at your side a lot. But Mica and I resolved that we take turns looking after him, while the other resumes their servitude to you.”

“Please don’t worry about it so much, my friend. You know you and Mica are guaranteed to continue to be my retainers, even if you take time off to care for your son. I did offer a nanny for you two, or to have a temporary retainer until you’re ready to return.”

“No, no that won’t be necessary,” Birger assures. “But thank you anyway, princess. It truly is an honor that you care so much for your staff.”

Karuna hums. “It’s been a firm belief of mine that a noble should always appreciate their staff and treat them like people. There is absolutely no shame in doing manual labor or serving others. You all do honest hard work, especially you and Mica. Not only are you my personal guards, but you also cook for me, clean, draw my baths, and prepare my clothes for the day. It’s only right that you be given proper respect and pay for everything that you do.”

“Milady, you honestly might make me cry,” Birger says with a laugh, though it’s laced with the tiniest hint of tearful sentiment. “Thank you for saying that. It’ll truly be the worst day on this earth should it be unfortunate enough to lose a heart like yours. But I’d rather die by my own lance than see your hurt.” 

“I’ll keep fighting to stay here, for both of us. Don’t worry.” 

Birger parts from her company once they reach the stables as he needs to exercise his gryphon. He’d also rather do her personal grooming himself, saying it gives him more respect from her, and thus she performs better in both training and combat. Karuna is then left with her satchel and the search for Janus. The foreman tells her he’s grooming the horses out in the enclosure with some other workers. She lets him know she’ll be giving him lessons from here on out, just so he isn’t frustrated when Janus isn’t working as much as the others.

Sure enough, the man of the hour is present when she goes there. His strokes with the brush are soft and precise along the mane. Janus caresses his hand along the horse’s jaw, who gives a pleased rumble from its throat. He whispers something to it, and it almost nods its head. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you can communicate with animals.”

Janus jolts and accidentally strikes the brush against the hide. The horse gives a high-pitched neigh, but Janus manages to soothe it with gentle strokes of his hand along its snout. He whispers something to it again, though it’s so low Karuna can’t hear it, even standing so close. 

“Funny you should say that,” he replies. “I uh, I think I might be able to understand animals to an extent.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m really not,” he laughs. Janus threads the brush through the mane again. “It’s not like they speak in any discernable human language, but I just… _know._ I can’t explain it. And it isn’t just horses, but I can also understand gryphons, and other animals like dogs and rabbits. Lizards too. When you hear a whinny or a bark or a screech, I hear them speaking. Not actually a language, but a feeling. I know when they’re in pain, when they’re hungry, when they’re scared, even without using their body language.” 

“Truly?”

“Yes.” He stops brushing, staring vacantly at a patch of hair on the horse’s snout. “I don’t know, Karuna. The more I find out about myself, the less I actually understand.” Janus shakes his head, and blinks. “But you’re not here to listen to my frustrations. So, let me just finish this, wash up, and then we can start. Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

She follows Janus to the washing station at the edge of the stables. He’s quick to clean himself up and put away his tools. Rolling up his sleeves, he approaches Karuna with an eager smile. “So, what are we going to start with?” 

“Writing. You can’t read if you don’t know how to write.”

They situate themselves upon a boulder underneath a wide tree. Karuna begins teaching him the Vallite alphabet and all the sounds they make. He repeats them back to her with almost complete ease, even looking surprised at himself. She then teaches him grammar structure and diction, before letting him write on parchment. Like his alphabet, he’s quick to absorb everything. She wonders if he’d known how to read and write before, and maybe just needed something to trigger the memory.

“I wouldn’t know,” he responds after she voices her curiosity. “But everything is just flowing. I’m not having a hard time understanding any of this at all.” 

“Well, that means I can teach you more that much quicker.” 

“Oh,” he looks down at the parchment where he has written a series of words in neat printing. They don’t mean anything together; they’re simply to practice writing out each character, “but now I feel like I’m wasting your time. I probably know so much, and only need a trigger to remember it. I’m sorry, Karuna.”

“Don’t be sorry, Janus. It gives me something to do, and I’ve never had a student before. If I can help you recover your memories that much quicker, then it’s not a problem at all.”

He gives her a shy smile, flicking his eyes back to the paper. “Thank you.”

Unsurprisingly, he learns to read as fast as he learns to write. This makes things easier when Karuna delves into arithmetic. He’s even quicker with numbers than he is with letters, though it takes him longer with the more difficult problems. 

“Well, it’s about an hour before supper,” she says, closing her book. “Freyja will want to know why I haven’t returned yet. I’m sorry, Janus.”

“That’s okay. I really should get back to my work too. Otherwise no dinner for me, knowing my boss.”

Janus slips off the boulder and lands soundlessly on his feet. He holds out his hand for Karuna to take, and she does so delicately. His fingers are warm and somewhat rough, but they gently wrap around her hand to help her off the stone. His other hand spreads fingers wide to support her back as she hops off.

It’s only a second they freeze in their stance, staring at each other in innocent wonderment. His eyes are big and an even deeper gold, almost like a streak of orange across the twilight sky. Janus clears his throat and steps away, the tips of his pointed ears turning red.

They almost look like rose petals.

“Yes, so,” he starts, handing her the study tools, “thank you again for the lessons. Maybe the day after tomorrow, we can continue, again?”

“Ah, y-yes, of course.”

“Good, great. Um, well, have a good day, milady.”

Janus scurries off, actually tripping this time. Karuna calls out to him but he waves her away, dusting grass and dirt off his pants with an embarrassed smile. She giggles watching him flee, his long hair trailing behind him.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Over the next several months, Karuna spaces out more advanced lessons in writing, reading, and arithmetic, at the request of Freyja. “Janus still needs to do his job, you know.” She resolves to teach him every other day, or every two days. Eventually she teaches him about history and art. Oftentimes, she’ll assign him readings from books or drawing exercises while she paints outside. She doesn’t shy away from teaching him about the origins of the Ancient One either, though does warn the superstition of saying his actual name aloud. Janus doesn’t believe in such things, but he respects it, and so refers to him as is common.

“When I think about it,” he starts, as he switches from reading to practicing his sketching in loose leaves of parchment, “it does seem unfair he can’t ascend like the rest of his kind.”

“I know,” Karuna replies solemnly. She dips her paint in blue, giving another stroke to the canvas sky. “But there’s nothing we can do to help him. I’ve tried looking—Freyja has, even—but there’s nothing in the history books or the tomes that give an alternative to an ancient dragon’s ascension.”

“And he’s just… going to stay trapped in the binding spell?”

“…Yes, until we find another solution. I don’t like it, but he can’t be killed as simply as some people think. At this point in his madness, however, I think all he wants is to rest.”

Janus is quiet for several moments; he doesn’t take his eyes away from his sketches. The scratching of a charcoal stick against paper is the only noise between them, aside from the distant roar of a waterfall in the background.

“I think,” he finally says, “I would too, if that had happened to me. Anybody would.” A smile appears on his face then, and he straightens his back. He holds the sketch pages at arm’s length. “Alright, I think I’m done with this daily practice.”

“Oh? Let’s see then.”

He flips over his paper with a sheepish smile. “I-I know it doesn’t capture complete likeness, but I tried.”

Karuna holds her breath as she sees herself staring back. It’s so precise. Almost a complete copy, on par with the portraits in the royal wing of the castle. Every stroke of the charcoal is thin and with purpose, only ever overlapping with their preliminary shapes. Her eyes shimmer in natural black, cheeks valued almost to look like rose, and her smile just as brilliant as a precious stone. Even her dark hair is masterfully highlighted, either with white charcoal or implementation of the paper’s tint itself.

“Janus, this is…”

He blushes, quickly flipping the page away. “I apologize if I—well I didn’t mean to stare for so long and I don’t know if I’ve crossed any boundaries so I really am sorry that I migh’ve—”

“No, no it’s alright! It’s… It’s a wonderful drawing. I don’t think there’s anything you can’t learn now.”

“I wouldn’t mind learning healing, or… maybe… some magic? I-If that’s allowed for a stablehand. If not, I understand. Uh, maybe if you teach me how to identify plants that can be used as cooking herbs or ones for medicine?” 

“Yes, yes of course. It’s better to be well rounded, after all.”

And her time is better well spent with company anyway, specifically his.

He’s learned everything only after a couple of months, to the point where Karuna has to make excuses for herself why she still needs to teach him anything at all. So far, healing is the most difficult thing for Janus, but no sooner does he learn all the herbs, that he reaches the level of an infirmary mage.

It really is a wonder what he did before he lost his memories. 

Freyja gives her looks every day at dinner from these lessons, and when passing the halls from their study times. But she doesn’t ever say anything outright, and Karuna doesn’t want her to either.

Because of their private study sessions, Karuna and Janus have grown close as friends to the point where casual chitchat with him embeds itself into her routine. So close are they now, that the court finally catches on to all the private time they spend alone. Especially the instances where Birger or Mica aren’t there to chaperone. 

Some nonsense about it actually being a secret (yet false) love affair.

An absurd defamation, but one that still brings heat to her face nonetheless.

While not unheard of, it still isn’t the norm for royalty or nobles to marry the common folk. It is, however, normal enough a noble has a child out of wedlock with a commoner. Most go unclaimed, and those that don’t, their noble parent’s reputation flies out the window. Karuna can’t even fathom why people would think that of her, especially since they always say how quiet and proper she is. She becomes whoever she needs to be to entertain them outside the castle, she supposes.

Hypocrites, the lot of them.

Freyja, the last person she’d ever suspect to believe such a thing, has apparently taken the whispers seriously.

So seriously that Karuna can only see Janus once a week, usually on Saturdays.

Needless to say, it leaves her somewhat defiant, to the point where she and Freyja argue about it one day instead of peacefully enjoying afternoon tea in the garden.

“I don’t want to hear it,” her sister says, rocking Egeria in her arms. She’s almost the spitting image of her mother, or at least, her hair and eyes are. She has her father’s jaw and the width of his forehead, however.

“But I haven’t done anything!”

“I know you haven’t, and neither has he. But not once have you ever cared so much for suitors of noble birth like you do with Janus, a man with no family name to speak of.”

Karuna narrows her eyes, fists curling in her lap. “At the lotus festival, you told Katerina and Ikona that you didn’t care who Egeria married, and that a commoner wouldn’t make you flinch.”

“You’re saying you want to marry Janus?”

“What?” Her cheeks flush, whether out of frustration or embarrassment, she doesn’t know. Perhaps both. “No, that’s _not_ what I’m saying.”

Freyja adjusts Egeria to her other arm, teasing her with a stuffed toy bear. “I can read between the lines, you know. And I told them that she could, _only_ had this been a different world where status didn’t matter. But it does. ‘Royals don’t marry for love; only for their kingdom’. You’ve heard this time and time again from Father, and our mothers. Our people always come first, Karuna.” 

“Are you saying you don’t love Latham?”

“Not as a wife should.” Freyja smiles down at Egeria, tapping her nose with a gentle finger. She gurgles, and Freyja grins wide. “But he is a cherished friend, and has given me the light of my life. Latham is a good king, and a good husband. We may not love each other like couples should, but that doesn’t mean we’re not content in the results.”

Egeria giggles, and Freyja nudges their noses together. Then, her smile vanishes. “Whether you love Janus or not, is unimportant. Your duty as a princess comes before all else. I won’t say this a second time, so listen well: there is no future for you and him.”

“I don’t think that’s up to you.”

Her sister gives her the coldest look she’s ever seen.

“You’re not my mother, Freyja. I won’t have you treat me like a child. We’re both adults, and I would expect you—a queen of all people—to understand that.”

“Karuna,” she starts harshly, “I’m also your _sister._ I’m only doing what’s best for you. Yes, you are an adult, but we’re human and prone to making mistakes when our emotions overcome us. I don’t have an issue with your heart belonging to Janus. It’s the defamation of your character that I worry about should the court catch wind of the truth.”

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “Why is it that a nobleman can bed several common women and have bastard children, yet not get _nearly_ as much grief as a noblewoman who does the same thing? How is that fair?” 

“It’s not. Never was. Never will be.”

“Then?” 

“You’re missing the point. That’s all the more reason you shouldn’t get ideas into your head about Janus. No, it isn’t fair in the slightest that a noblewoman is shamed more than a nobleman when they both commit the exact same thing. But that’s why I’m concerned. Should that happen to you, the court will never let you forget it.” 

Freyja stands up, cradling Egeria close with both arms. “Three days from now, we’ll travel to Nohr for Prince Alexander’s 4th birthday. As such, you’re not going to like what I’m about to say.”

“What is it?”

“Seeing as you’ve turned down every Vallite nobleman interested in you—and there were only a few to begin with, it’s been arranged for Nohrian noblemen to attempt courtship with you. Should you turn any of them down too, our next trip to Hoshido, the same arrangement will be made. I know that you’ve already set your eyes on a man, but learn to push your desires aside.”

Karuna seethes, but before she can get a word in, Freyja adds, “The binding spell we cast on the Ancient One will weaken within the coming months. He’s simply too massive of a force for it to last forever. Latham and I will have to go back to his cavern and cast it again. Egeria is here, so there’s no need for me to worry about an heir. But I also know not all nobles of our land are genuinely in our favor.”

“Freyja,” some of her anger dissipates, knowing very well where the conversation is heading, “stop talking like that.”

“I’m being realistic, Karuna. We can’t count on our mortality working for us. In the event that tragedy comes to pass, you’ll take the throne. You need to find someone to have an heir with, as many as you can, so our family line doesn’t die out.” 

“But—”

“We’re the only ones who can sing the song.” Freyja walks around the table, Egeria beginning to whine. “Until we figure out how else to get rid of the Ancient One, we’re the only bloodline capable of stopping him. That cannot die out, otherwise, our world is doomed. I married Latham for this reason alone. I would have more children with him thinking about it now, but he’s stubborn and refuses to keep me ridden to the castle for almost another whole year. While confident in Egeria’s future rule, I don’t have as much of it in our mortality. Thus, should Latham, she, and I somehow die, it’s your responsibility to ensure our family—this _kingdom_ survives, by any means necessary. This is what I mean about duty coming before desire.”

She has a point. Karuna can’t deny that. It’s not fair, but it’s sound.

“I’m sorry, sister.” Freyja puts a hand on her shoulder. “I won’t force you to marry a man you can’t even become friends with. So, please, do try and find one who you can see yourself amicably conversing with, at least.”

Their conversation sours her mood for the rest of the day.

So much so, that she stays in her room and cries. She knows she’s being foolish; this isn’t how a princess should act, especially one whose family has the fate of the world on their shoulders. Freyja is only doing what’s best for the kingdom, and their allies—the human race, as a whole. Why her sister thinks she’d make a suitable ruler in her place, Karuna still knows not. 

How can a selfish princess like herself ever deserve to lead a beautiful nation anyway?

Through her muffled sobs, both at the situation and her own irrationality, she doesn’t notice the knocks on her bedroom door until several raps get on her last nerves.

“Who is it and what do you want?” she nearly snaps.

“Um, it’s me. Janus.”

Karuna wipes her eyes with her sleeve, and swallows her last sorrows. “O-Oh. Come in.” 

Hesitantly, Janus steps forward, another modest bouquet in his hands. “I know it’s a little late,” he says in an apologetic tone, “and I didn’t see any guards. The ones I did see were drunk and just pointed me in the direction of your room when I didn’t find you in the study. I was wondering if…,” Janus stops and steps forward, closing the door. He doesn’t speak until he’s well into the room, “…milady, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry yourself.” 

Janus sets the flowers down on a nearby table. “Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?”

“I’m fine,” she forces herself to smile, “really.”

He doesn’t look the least bit convinced. “I know our stations are completely different even as friends, but, if it pleases you, I don’t mind lending a pointed ear. You’ve helped me so much, and I’d like to repay the favor, even if this is all I can do.” Janus plucks one of the flowers from the bouquet. It’s a vibrant pink with yellow filaments in the center. “Maybe this’ll cheer you up, even a little.” 

“You’re too kind,” she takes the flower and gives it a whiff. Its scent is sweet, just like him, “really. Thank you, Janus.” Karuna thumbs the petals, rubbing its waxy texture between her fingers. “You really don’t mind hearing my thoughts?”

“Of course not.”

“Well,” she sets the flower aside on her pillow, “it’s a noble issue. One thing that—many more than you might think, our class wishes we were afforded the luxury of the common folk. I-I don’t mean it in a bad way, that the common folk—”

“No no, I get it. Or, I believe I will once you say it.”

“It’s,” Karuna slumps onto the bed, hands heavy in her lap, “for the good of the kingdom, our family line. I know that. Known it since I was a child. But… I tried to avoid it for as long as possible. Time’s run out for me, and so now I must find a husband in order to produce an heir. I’ve rejected all my Vallite suitors, and so when Freyja, Latham, and I make our trip to Nohr next month, she expects me to mingle for a spouse.”

She looks up at Janus. His eyes are wide, fists for whatever reason flexing oddly at his sides. He bites his lip, glances away, and then asks, “So… would that mean, you’d live in Nohr?”

“Yes. Except in the unfortunate event that my family is killed. Then I’d have to return to Valla and take the throne. I’m next in line after Egeria.”

“I-I see.”

Karuna sighs. “It’s stupid for me to cry over it. Maybe I’ve read too many novels of high romance and the like. Got ideas into my head a person like me shouldn’t bother with.”

“There’s nothing wrong with believing in love.”

“Yes, but such a thing doesn’t exist for royals.”

It comes out bitter as she glares at the ground. Half of her wants to slap herself for being so juvenile, and the other because she’s most likely being an embarrassment. Janus must think of her as the typical pampered princess that so many common folk imagine the high class. She won’t deny it; she’s met her fair share of persons fitting the description to the last letter.

Maybe if he thinks less of her, he’ll stay away, and her feelings will wane as a result.

No, they won’t. She’d pine regardless, after being married, and after raising several children. Karuna stands, fists clenched at her sides. If she’s to be forced away, then she might as well handle it in a civilized matter.

“I might not ever see you within the next year or so, or ever again, will I?” Janus asks solemnly. 

“Perhaps not, no.”

He looks to ground, eyebrows furrowed. Karuna begins again, “But do know that I cherished having such a wonderful friend, and a great student. Maybe we might meet again, should you still be employed here. I have to come to all the birthday celebrations after all, and the lotus festival.”

She smiles, swallowing her laments. “Now that you can read and write, I can send you letters whenever I get a—” 

“Love for royals, it’s real, I swear it!” Janus nearly shouts.

“What?”

“I…,” he rubs the back of his neck with a hand, cheeks turning pink, “sorry, I didn’t mean to burst out like that. It’s just,” he looks at her, gaze focused, “you need to know it exists. Even though it can never happen, and you will definitely not feel the same, I… I-I love you, Lady Karuna.”

Her heart beats viciously in her chest, legs slowly turning to pudding. _Am I really awake at the moment? Oh, I do hope so._

“Janus,” she starts quietly, “I don’t know what to say….”

“You,” he rubs at his arm, shoulders slumped, “don’t need to say anything. I know it’s impossible, even if you did return my feelings. But I said it in hopes that you’d take that comfort with you to Nohr, and after you’ve been wed. Love is possible for you, just, maybe, not in the way you would’ve liked.”

Clearing his throat, he begins to walk away. “I’m sorry. I better go. It’s late and you need as much sleep you can get. Actually I shouldn’t have said anything at all. Please forgive me, your highness.”

She doesn’t know why she does it. Reaches out for his hand, carves his surprise into her mind as she leans forward, pressing her lips against his. 

Maybe she’s just lonely. Maybe she wants to spite her sister. Maybe she wants to spite the whole system, reputation be damned.

Maybe she just wants to feel this before the inevitable. 

Karuna should pull away when Janus kisses back. Pull away when she feels his hands on the small of her back, and she’s pressed flush against him. She should tell him this is improper, that they’re making a mistake. That she’s sorry she’s put him into this position, especially after knowing it can never be. She shouldn’t run her hands up to his shoulders, or loop her arms around his neck. She needs to walk away and stop this.

Yet she does none of these things, and instead allows herself— _them_ , to fall onto the bed, hunger in their kisses and curiosity in their wandering hands.

They’re making a mistake. They’re going to regret it. There’s a chance the consequences will be permanent. 

But right now, she just doesn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to keep this story going at a steady pace, but I also don't want to unnecessarily drag out arcs either. I hope by this point, it makes sense why Karuna did what she did. It was actually a challenge for me to characterize her in this fic because she got so little emphasis in the game, so I hope she seems organic throughout the work.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	4. IV

Nohr both is and isn’t a pleasant place to be.

During the day, the clouds cover up most of the sky. Rarely is it ever sunny, except in the summer months here and there. Spring varies from year to year. But the night sky is the clearest in Nohr out of anywhere else, marking the black expanse with celestial jewels. The clouds fade during sunset, casting the land in the warm oranges of twilight. It’s ideal for timeless paintings and spontaneous love confessions. Food is superb and filling, the mines of precious ores are abundant, and the entertainment vastly enjoyable and varied.

However, the royal court isn’t as delightful.

All courts are the same at their core: judgmental and shallow. But some sink further into it than others. Valla, surprisingly, isn’t as bad as Hoshido’s, and Hoshido’s is far tamer than Nohr’s.

Katerina is the true gem of the court. Blunt as a boulder, but sentiments soft like rabbit’s fur. She makes everyone feel welcome, even those who like to remind her of Garon’s affairs. Her cheerful mood never perishes in front of them. And even after their parties are over, she doesn’t lament over what’s she’s heard a million times.

Tonight is no different.

She stands at the dais in her best gown, posture proud, with little Alexander in her arms. He shies away from everyone cooing at him, pressing his face to his mother’s neck. At 4 years old, he still hasn’t obtained the same level of free-spirited curiosity and boundless energy that other children his age do. Karuna would love nothing more than to go up there and spend time with Katerina, chat her up so other nobles don’t needlessly remind her of the king’s infidelity (like one couple is doing right now). Or maybe she should go up there to soothe the shy Xander with comforting words. But she’s not here just to celebrate his 4th birthday.

No, she is also here to find a future husband.

One after another, her suitors strike up friendly conversation. There aren’t many, so it isn’t much of a bother. She keeps mental notes on their build and demeanor, as well as what they do or don’t brag about. Two of them have wandering eyes along her body and those of other women (they are out of the running by that reason alone), one is rather decrepit (she’s not about to bed a man who’s already at death’s door), three seem more interested in monetary gain, and the last is the most pleasant, but confesses he isn’t looking to marry either.

Relatable.

For what exact reason though, Karuna can only assume. She has a few ideas; the most likely is that the parents are pushing him to find a wife. Later, as she watches him from afar, another reason becomes a possibility. His eyes light up at one particular gentleman’s company, and his shoulders are relaxed, smile ever brilliant. It could’ve been the wine in his hand, though he hasn’t even finished one glass, let alone half of it. Too little to cause such pinkness in his cheeks.

It leaves only one explanation. The singular topic aristocrats actually care about keeping in the privacy of their minds and homes.

But that’s not any of her business.

She laments, however, that her new acquaintance can never pursue the future he might’ve wished for himself. Nobles, and royals especially, must always keep their family line alive, regardless of their personal feelings. Had he been born a commoner, or perhaps several centuries in the future, nobody would bat an eye.

 _Well, I wish him the best, and hope he finds a wife he can at least laugh with._  

“Usually you stand in plain sight, and no one notices you,” a deep, familiar voice says next to her. “Yet here you are trying to hide behind the darkest pillar, and the men are flocking your way.” 

“Purposefully, at that.” Karuna smooths out the creases in her dress, then turns to Sumeragi. “Freyja has set it up so I may find a husband. She’s trying to plan for the future, and if her first doesn’t work, then she’ll go with the next three. Or five. Me taking the throne as a wedded queen with heirs is one of them.” 

“Ah, yes. She has told me the binding spell on the Ancient One is fading.”

“Our family is the only bloodline who can sing the song. Should we all die…”

“Then the world will too.”

Sumeragi stills for a moment, perhaps thinking of something less heavy to say. “Your heart isn’t in this, is it?”

“For my kingdom, yes. But truthfully, I’d rather be elsewhere.”

Like back in Janus’s arms, his warm bare skin against her own. He had been so loving that night, and she woke up to him caressing her cheek the morning after. They gave each other sweet chaste kisses until she had to quickly usher him away before Mica or a maid woke up and readied her morning bath. 

Fortune had been on her side that morning. She hopes it lasts and keeps the consequences at bay.

The musicians begin to play loudly again, having softened their tunes during the dinner earlier. People are coupling together, waltzing onto the dance floor. From the highest level of the stairway, Garon dances with Katerina. Little Alexander sits at the throne, a nanny nearby watching over him as he kicks his feet back and forth, munching on a fluffy pastry.

“Hoshido and its neighboring lands have many eligible bachelors,” Sumeragi offers, “should you not find a husband here. Freyja already informed me of the possibility.”

“Well, we’ll see what tonight brings. For now,” she curtsies, “would it be so terrible to grace me with a dance? We’ll sway throughout the room to find Ikona.”

Sumeragi smiles. “Oh she hates dancing, even in our culture’s style. But of course,” he bows, “it would be my honor, Princess Karuna.”

It is here, she thinks, that a man with Sumeragi’s qualities would be ideal for an arranged husband. At least then she’d know for a fact she can be happy having a friend such as him by her side for years to come.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


They stay in Nohr until the weather is fair enough to travel back to Valla. Throughout that time, Karuna is courted by her potential suitors. Freyja makes her pick one the day before they’re to leave, and so she goes with the decrepit man, a widower by the name of Eustace.

“Are you _sure?_ ” Freyja asks, looking as if she’d just witnessed her sister swallowing an entire boar.

Good thing they’re in Karuna’s guest room, otherwise _she’d_ be the one telling her to show some manners for a change.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“I didn’t think you’d pick him.”

“Then why did you throw him into the bunch?”

“Out of courtesy.”

Karuna almost has the heart to laugh. “Well I like him. He may be around 40 years my senior, but he’s a good man. Knighted at a young age and fairly respected. Noble in both blood and character. Comes from one of the few families with pasture land too. Our children will never grow hungry, at least.” 

Freyja quirks an eyebrow. “You sure it’s not because of his advanced age, you might not have to share a bed with him for long, or he’ll die quickly and leave you to your shenanigans?” 

“Sister!”

“I’m being honest!”

Karuna rubs her temple. “ _No_ , and I can’t believe you’d think I’d do that.” Though, Freyja does bring up an issue Karuna failed to see earlier. Eustace might pass on before they’re ever allowed to have children. A Vallite heir, specifically. She wouldn’t have to sleep with him, but then she’d just be forced to endure the torture of finding another husband.

Well, she’ll just have to make do with the present for now.

“Sorry,” Freyja sits back in the armchair, “I didn’t mean to sound insensitive. But seeing as you’re sure, I’ll have arrangements made for your courtship within the coming months. You’ll return to Nohr first and spend time within his household, and then he shall travel back with you to Valla so he may get acquainted with our culture.”

“Of course.”

Hearing about how frustrated her other suitors were at being rejected (sans the friendliest of the bunch), Karuna’s glad she went with Eustace. No need to raise a family with a husband whose vulgar mouth and bitter tongue would undoubtedly infect their children to be.

Eustace is handsome for his age: an impressive beard, tall and wide stature, and calloused but tender hands. Quite the gentleman, and jovial too. She doesn’t look forward to the process of making children with him, but he’d be a good father, at least. (That’s a bit rude to think, so she keeps it to herself.) 

“I know it might be hard to love a relic like me,” he jokes as he strolls with her in the gardens later that day, “especially from a lady so young and beautiful like yourself. But I hope we can become friends throughout our marriage, at least.”

Karuna smiles, and some weight is lifted off her shoulders. “I’d like that very much, sir.” 

“As for children, don’t think I expect you to hurry up and produce any,” and he says this actually looking bashful. “I understand I’m not a spring chicken. I’ve got three sons and one daughter already, so should we not have any, they’ll at least keep you company.”

“While I appreciate your consideration, I do need to have one heir minimum with you. It’s integral my family line is preserved.”

“Because of the Ancient One, correct?”

“Yes.”

To commoners, the Ancient One’s existence is but tall tales outside of Valla. To nobles all across the land and neighboring kingdoms, they are very much aware. Nobody ever speaks his name, as to do so would give him power. Or, that’s what’s said about names anyway. Some nobility are more concerned than others about his existence. Thankfully, Eustice is one of the people who takes the threat seriously.

“Then, for the sake of all our kingdoms,” he takes Karuna’s hand, and kisses it, “I will aide you and your family in this task however I can.”

She offers him a smile. “Thank you, Sir Eustace.”

It’s a little disheartening leaving him after such an honest display, but Karuna is eager to get back to Valla. Not because Nohr is horrendous (aside from the court), but to comfort Janus in that she will always think of him when she inevitably makes a permanent home elsewhere.

When they arrive back at Castle Gyges, Freyja stops her before she can ascend down to the stables. “I know what you’re thinking,” she scolds, “and you’re not going to do it.”

Karuna clicks her tongue. She’d been hoping she could scurry out of her room with teaching supplies before her sister catches up to her. Plan foiled. “I’m only going to continue his lessons.”

“That won’t be necessary anymore.” Freyja plucks the book from her hands. “While we were gone, I had a tutor assess his progress. Apparently, Janus has become so skilled in everything you’ve taught him that he’s advanced enough to learn offensive magic. He will be learning to cast spells and such so he may be appointed as one of our court mages.” 

“Oh, well, that’s wonderful! Is it for healing? Or apothecary? Botany?”

“For aiding the rest and myself in renewing the Ancient One’s binding spell.”

Her heart stills, eyes wide. She drops the inkwell, and it spills onto the sandstone steps. “What?”

“Janus was discovered to have an almost insane potency in magic. As you know, not everyone can use it. But it’s as if it runs through his very veins like water does under the soil. With his help, we can even cast a permanent bind on that monster once and for all.” 

“No, no you can’t. Please Freyja, you can’t! You know those spells severely drain both you and Latham—our mages! Are you telling me you’re going to force him to exhaust himself?”

“I’m not aiming to kill him, Karuna. If anything, he’ll get _less_ tired because he has so much more magic than we do.” Freyja picks up the inkwell, capping it again to save whatever is left. “He’ll go through rigorous training and traveling around Valla to learn about our different flora and fauna, so unfortunately, you won’t be seeing much of him within the coming year or so.” 

Her chest tightens, and a weight settles in her throat. “You did this on purpose.”

“I did this for our kingdom; I’m _not_ going to have this conversation with you again. For goodness sake’s, Karuna. You’ll be 20 in several months. Please start acting like it.”

Karuna gives her the silent treatment after that. Freyja attempts to talk her out of it, but if she’s allowed to be stubborn in her ways, then Karuna doesn’t see why she can’t be either.

Janus is nowhere to be found, no matter where she wanders around the castle. The mages must’ve already taken him out to travel the land and learn magic. Karuna thus spends her time and focus on advancing her own techniques in healing as a means to distract herself. She foregoes all her hobbies and takes up consistent archery practice again too. Her retainers tell her she needs to be less aggressive with handling the bowstring, but she ignores them.

Better to take out her ill-guided frustrations on training dummies and thin air rather than on her sister.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


For three months she continues like this until the snowfall grows too thick for her to go outside. A couple of times she has vomited from so much overwork or overexerting her magic with healing, to the point where Freyja has to scold her and enforce a resting period from training.

As much as she wants to argue every time she’s coddled, her stomach disagrees with her.

The weather puts her courtship with Eustace on hold. Winter time is most beautiful in Nohr, as it only snows in the northern half of Valla, and mainly mountainous regions in Hoshido. Nomads are generally the only ones who can traverse the conditions safely. Seeing as how Freyja can’t trust any of them to take Karuna all the way back to Nohr, she’s bound to Gyges until spring.

It’s when her dresses stop fitting around her abdomen in January that she understands her vomiting is not the cause of over training.

“No, oh no,” she murmurs, gazing at herself in the mirror. Karuna turns to the side and stands up straight in her undergarments. Her belly has rounded out, more than is normal after lunch. “Oh gods, no.” 

She supposes fortune decided to void its grace on her. 

Hiding her stomach from the castle inhabitants, and Freyja especially, is difficult. Thankfully it’s cold, and so she can get away with layering herself with furs and thick robes. Her other retainer, Mica, finds out by accident during an evening bath. Her purple eyes go wide when she returns with a towel just as Karuna is rising out of the water. Mica’s warm brown skin is flushed at the implication of the cause, no doubt.

“Please, you _cannot_ speak of this to anyone.” Karuna quickly dries herself and slips on her nightgown. “Do you understand?”

“O-Of course, milady, but,” Mica clears her throat, helping Karuna into her robes, “you can’t hide it forever. The weather will be warmer in no time, and the heat here is unbearable. You’ll have to wear your summer clothes.”

“I know, I know. Oh dear gods.” Sluggishly she walks into the adjacent bedroom, slumping into a chair. Her hands tremble as she brings them up to her face. “I deserve this; this is what I get for being impulsive and petty.”

“Milady?”

Karuna motions with a hand for her to sit on the opposite chair. “I don’t know what to do. And… the father can never know he is one.”

“Um, I don’t mean to talk out of line,” her retainer begins, “but would he… happen to be that new mage Janus? The one you used to go off and teach before.”

When Karuna doesn’t say anything, her retainer only responds with, “Oh. I see.”

She can’t get married now. No nobleman wants an unmarried woman promised to him who isn’t a maiden, and he’d especially never agree to wed a proposed maiden pregnant with another man’s child. The court will find out about it, word would spread, and sleeping with a commoner is almost as socially reprehensible as murder, in a manner of speaking. Eustace may as well start looking for another wife, because Karuna is sure they’d never be, even as friends.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive,” Mica starts in a meek voice, “but, there are herbs you can take if…”

“ _No._ ” Karuna stands. “I… knew this might happen, and yet I didn’t pay it enough caution.” She breathes shakily, swallowing a regretful sob. “This is my responsibility.” And Janus’s, but he’s too far away at the moment to be bothered with it, studying magic alongside other high mages for—

Oh.

That’s right. He’s moved up within the castle, just below the council. Which means she can keep their child. A child made out of their love, and possibly even get what she’s wanted all along. He’s no longer a commoner, and he’s educated, which means no one can object to their marriage now.

Karuna puts her hands to her stomach, smiling. “Besides, Freyja wanted me to have an heir. She can’t complain anymore.”

“Well then,” a slow smile graces Mica’s lips, “I’ll help you through your pregnancy, milady. You can count on me to fetch you the strangest food combinations whenever your stomach fancies.”

“Thank you, my friend. I truly am lucky.”

Said fortune doesn’t apply in her hopes that her sister will also take the news in stride.

Freyja seethes in the corner of her study, with Karuna standing timidly near the window. Spring is just beginning to defrost the land, and her belly has gotten even bigger. No amount of clothing can hide it now. She’d rather confront the inevitable scolding head-on than have somebody else gossip to the queen. 

“How,” she starts darkly, “could you do this?”

“It was in the heat of the moment,” she explains quietly.

“ _When_ did you even—no, I don’t want to know.” She waves her hand at Karuna, the other rubbing circles into her forehead. Freyja remains deathly silent, glaring at the nearest tapestry.

“Um,” Karuna steps forward, gently running her fingers along the contour of her stomach, “I find it best to look on the bright side of things. I’ll have an heir now, and Janus is no longer just a commoner. So, you don’t need to worry about—”

“It’s not that _simple!_ ” she shouts, turning to her, eyes wide with rage. “Eustace’s family owned a plot with precious ores that we could’ve used for the castle’s weapons! For our _magic_ to enhance the binding spell! And now I have to tell him the truth, because he’s going to want to know why his courtship is taking so long!”

“His health over the winter had—”

“And how very convenient for you to grow that creature inside meanwhile!”

Blood boiling, Karuna steps forward, just on the other side of Freyja’s desk. “Do _not_ call my child a creature.”

“We don’t know what Janus is. _He_ doesn’t even know! Definitely not entirely human, and not a wolfskin or kitsune!” 

“He’s a good man, Freyja, whether you want to believe it or not.” 

“I don’t know what to believe or even think anymore.” Freyja crosses her arms, looking away toward the tapestry. Her fingers play with the pendant hanging at her chest. Gradually her posture deflates, and her face relaxes. “What have you decided to do with it?” 

“Keep it, of course.”

Freyja studies her, golden eyes piercing and focused. She stays silent far too long, index finger tapping against her cheek as she thinks. Karuna knows she’s disappointed her sister, and might have jeopardized the safety of their kingdom. But Freyja always finds an alternative. No doubt she’ll figure out something else without the aid of Eustace’s ore mines. 

“Very well,” she begins. “I suppose it can’t be helped. What’s done is done, and I’m not going to ask you to get rid of it. This is your responsibility now, and I expect you to care for it on your own.” 

“What about Janus?”

“He’ll be too busy to help you. Once he finishes his training in Valla, I’m arranging for him to travel to Nohr and Hoshido to learn about their own brands of magic. We need all the help we can get to make sure that binding spell is permanent.”

She admires Freyja’s ability to find multiple solutions to every problem, but Karuna has to admit this is one she doesn’t like very much.

“You’re sending him away again?” Karuna goes around the desk to face her sister. “When did you plan this?”

“After you kept asking me to postpone your courtship with Eustace.”

“But Janus isn’t a commoner anymore and—”

“No, he isn’t. As such, he must attend to the duties of his class and help rid us of the Ancient One. Karuna,” Freyja sighs as she approaches her, “I know you might think you’ve finally pulled one over me, but never forget: I am the eldest, and I’m always one step ahead of you.” 

Her sister flicks her on the forehead with her fingers. “Every action has a consequence. You might think this one isn’t such a big deal, but we’ll see if your mind changes in the near future. If it does, then good; you should be aware of these things. If it doesn’t, then I honestly will have nothing left to say.” 

Karuna doesn’t bother arguing with her. Instead she excuses herself, and hurries to her room to read, paint, embroider—anything that will bury all her shame in being such a fool. What is she even doing? Why couldn’t she have just listened the first time? Now she made a mess of things. Janus might not ever be allowed to marry her after how much she’s frustrated Freyja.

And she’ll have to care for her new baby all alone.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers, hands caressing her stomach. “It’s mine. I’m so sorry I did this to you— _we_ did this to you. The names the court will call you—everyone will know. And your father might not even be around to spend time with you. I’m so sorry….”

She gasps as a kick knocks against the palm of her hand. Karuna grins, a warmth melting in her chest. “But I promise, little one, I’ll take care of you regardless. I’ve never been a mother, so I won’t know what I’m doing, but I hope you’ll accept my effort in raising you.”

Another kick, and Karuna giggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you think the baby will be a boy or a girl? I'm curious. :)
> 
> Things are gonna pick up pretty fast next chapter. I hope you're all ready for it. Ooh, I'm excited to get into stuff. Everything after chapter 5 I enjoyed writing immensely.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	5. V

When summer comes, the lotus festival is put on hold until the baby is born. Karuna doesn’t think it’s necessary, but Freyja wants to keep the child’s existence a secret for as long as possible. The servants already know however, and no doubt their gossip has reached even the guards at the kingdom’s gates.

It certainly has reached the court mages once they return from their excursion. Janus, to be specific. 

He shouts from outside the door when Karuna is already in labor. And oh gods above, is it ever painful. She doesn’t care to know how long she’s been pushing and breathing and whimpering and wishing she were dead. She just wants it to _stop._ The midwives do all they can to calm her, but she just screams more as another quake of pain surges through her body. How in the world did Freyja endure all this? Did she even cry or sweat? Were her own pains this bad? Oh she should’ve asked for advice on how to handle this situation. But this is one of the many consequences Freyja spoke of, Karuna is sure, as another shooting pain courses throughout her body, throat raw from screaming so much and limbs failing to—

Then, she hears it.

A squeal rips through the room, and the midwives stare in awe. Karuna can’t see over her bent legs and the blanket, but she can finally breathe. She swallows, and asks, “What—is my baby okay? What happened? Please, tell me!”

No one answers her for a few moments, too busy with the child and cleaning up the mess. One of the midwives takes the baby in her arms and hurries over to a table where a basin of water is perched. Her back shields the child from Karuna’s view, and all she can see is a rag gently being swiped over the midwife’s arm. 

“Please, somebody say something,” she chokes out. 

“There’s no need to fret, milady,” another midwife says. “Your birth went well. Your baby girl is healthy and whole. Congratulations.” 

Karuna gives a weak laugh, smiling, before her head hits the pillow. She stares up at the ceiling, memorizing her child’s cries in her mind. A healthy baby girl. Her child. The daughter of Janus.

_Janus…._

“When,” she begins, taking another breath, “can I have visitors?”

“If you’re asking about the father of your child,” the first midwife says, now having wrapped the baby in a blanket, “then I’m afraid he can’t see you until the last bits of training are done. Queen Freyja has requested it, and asked not to give in to any demands you make, until he’s done with everything.” 

She should’ve known better than to think Freyja would be merciful at a time like this. While kind and caring, she can also be as unmovable as a mountain. Most of the time, this trait serves her well. But other times, it’s beyond infuriating. 

Karuna doesn’t protest though, knowing Janus will see her eventually. Instead, she asks for her baby, and the midwife hands her the bundle. “There is one thing, however,” she says. “Your child has strange ears, and eyes as brilliant as rubies.”

But she ignores the observations, and instead smiles down at the new bundle of joy. “Hello, my sweet,” Karuna coos. “Oh, look at you. You’re so small.” The baby does have pointed ears like Janus, the rim and earlobes rigged like his too. It’s difficult to tell, but from the small slits of her half-open eyelids, red irises peek through. Strange, as Janus’s eyes are gold, and Karuna’s are brown. But her baby does share some of her own traits too: black hair (fuzz, really) and a tiny beauty mark on the left side of her face, in between the space from the bottom lip and her jawline.

Despite all her wrinkles, the baby truly is precious. June 25th will forever be a blessed day.

Later, when she’s cleaned up and has gotten some rest, Freyja enters her room. “They tell me she’s healthy,” she says, standing awkwardly by the canopy post.

Karuna glances to her sister, and then at her daughter who’s nestled against her chest. “You can come closer if you’d like to see your new niece.”

She does, hesitantly, and looks down at the slumbering bundle in Karuna’s arms. It’s faint, but the soft smile is there nonetheless. From where Karuna lays, Freyja almost looks like a benevolent goddess standing over her child, a gentle hand brushing along her tiny head. As if blessing her.

“Have you decided on a name?” 

“Divya. But I want to see what Janus thinks of it first, when I’m allowed to see him.”

Freyja steps back, smile fading. “I apologize for the arrangement I made. He was certainly angry with me for not letting him see his child, or even telling him he had one. But his training comes first, and I reminded him the only reason he’s not dead is because of my compliance with your mercy.”

“Oh sister….” 

“He’ll be allowed to see you tomorrow morning if you’d like. For the time being, rest Karuna.” Freyja pats her cheek. “You’re a mother now, and you’re going to need this short reprieve from the years you’ll spend raising your daughter.” 

Before she walks out of the room, Karuna says, “I know you don’t like that this happened, but at least Egeria has a cousin now, right?” 

“Yes,” she replies, turning around at the door. “I suppose that’s one way to look at it.” 

The rest of the day Karuna recuperates in her room. Divya cries here and there, and so the nursemaids show her how to breastfeed. They offer to raise her child for her so she can get back to her duties, but Karuna refuses. Divya is her responsibility now, and she’s going to spend every waking moment with her, even if Janus can’t.

It’s a future possibility that he might only be able to see his child a few times a month from how busy he’ll be, but Karuna hopes whenever he does get a chance, he’ll cherish the times he has with his daughter. 

Janus does in fact visit the next day after Karuna is dressed. She watches a nursemaid clothe Divya, paying extra attention to how she fits her small limbs into the sleeves. When done, the nursemaid excuses herself and slips past Janus, who closes the door for her. 

“Good morning,” Karuna greets, taking Divya in her arms. “How goes your training?” 

“Uh, fine enough,” he replies, smiling awkwardly. “I was told I’d be traveling to either Nohr or Hoshido in about a month. My pick on where to go first.”

“Both are lovely in their own ways.” She rocks Divya in her arms. “But I’m sure you’re not here to chat about that, are you?”

“No.” Janus goes to her and opens his mouth, then closes it again. He looks almost ashamed, though his face softens when he glances at the baby. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“How about a ‘hello’ to your new daughter, Divya?” 

“Th-That’s a wonderful name. May I…,” he starts, swallowing, “may I hold her?”

Karuna smiles, and hands him Divya. Janus takes the baby in his arms as if he’s cradling a glass vase. He smiles down at her, and she aimlessly reaches out a tiny arm. “Hey there,” he whispers, lightly stroking the top of her head, “hello tiny one. Do you know who I am?” 

Divya only makes a small sound, arms still waving.

“Guess you wouldn’t, huh? Well, I’m here to tell you that I’m your father. Yes, yes I am. I’m… a father.” He laughs softly, eyes glistening. Her arms still wave around without purpose, and Janus holds out his index finger to her. Divya’s little fist brushes against it before her hand clumsily curls around his finger. Janus gives a quiet laugh. “I can’t believe it. A daughter. My very own child. I never would’ve thought I could be a…” 

Then his smile falls, and his eyes widen. 

For a moment, he stands completely frozen, white as a sheet and staring off at nothing.

“Janus?” 

Quickly he hands Divya back, looking almost horrified. “I-I-I,” he stammers, “I need to go.” 

“What? Wait what’s—Janus!” 

But he’s out of the door before she can get another word in.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


She won’t admit that she cried on and off in her room for the rest of the day. But Freyja has ears everywhere, and returns to her side in the evening.

“I suspected you didn’t want to dine with us,” she starts, setting a tray of food down on the table, “so I brought your dinner here myself. Your favorite: tangerine curry and rice, with some lamb. Got you the biggest portion of the almond and cheese cake too. Complete with jam and cream on top. I might have some more later myself. It’s especially delicious tonight.”

Karuna says nothing. Only stares out the window from her chair. Freyja sits in the one adjacent to her, and joins her in silence. It’s a while until she gathers the courage to speak, knowing her sister might just rub it in her face about the mistake she had made. 

“He just… ran away,” she explains quietly. “He got this look on his face like he’d seen a phantom or something. At first he seemed so happy holding Divya in his arms—almost cried, like he was looking forward to being a father. But then he just… left.” 

“And he didn’t tell you why?” 

“No. I’m too upset to go searching for him as well. So I just decided to stay here until I can will myself to stop crying.”

Freyja puts a warm hand on Karuna’s knee. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’ll demand he explain himself to you, if you’d like.”

She shakes her head. “No, that’s okay. I want him to tell me on his own time. Though knowing you, I’m assuming you already had it arranged that he does.”

“You’d think that, but I only heard about this a few hours ago. One of the maids caught him darting out of a corner in the hallway looking panicked. She didn’t think anything of it until he started talking frantically to himself. I assumed it had to do with you, plus nobody has seen you all day except Mica and a nursemaid.” 

“That’s strange.”

Exactly what is up with that man? What was it that he saw, or thought, or what else in that moment? Surely the revelation of being a father wasn’t all that surprising to him, right? It isn’t like Karuna is forcing him to be there for Divya, and neither is she forcing him into marriage. But he had said he loves her, so that can’t be it, surely.

Karuna spends the rest of the evening in her room with Freyja, eating dinner and asking about motherly advice. Divya wakes up crying, and a familiar smell has Karuna rushing for a new cloth to change her into. Freyja sings a beautiful lullaby meanwhile, and the baby falls asleep almost immediately after.

It’s moments like these where Karuna is glad her sister is there with her. Having no one else, she’s thankful every day she at least has Freyja, even when they fight or argue.

Days later is when Janus finally shows himself. Surprising still is when he’s the one who requests an audience with not only Karuna, but the queen as well.

In the throne room, he stands at the bottom of the dais, wringing his hands. His long hair is a mess and dark circles line his eyes. Janus glances up at Freya, and then gives a quick glance at Karuna. He looks away, and hangs his head as he says, “I’m sorry for my behavior recently, your majesty.” 

“Don’t apologize to me,” Freyja replies, loud and assertive. “Karuna is the one you need to beg forgiveness for.”

“I-I,” he gives all his attention to Karuna, “I’m so sorry. So very sorry I put you in this position. We should’ve never—now we have the baby and—”

“We’ll figure this out like adults,” she responds coolly. “But Janus, I don’t appreciate that you didn’t tell me what was on your mind that day. I thought you’d be happy, or at least content.” 

“But I am; I swear that I am!” He shakes his head, fingers digging into his hair. “When I held her, I couldn’t believe the life I helped create. She was so beautiful, so small and innocent. And that’s when I—it came to me, and that’s when I knew. As much as I want to be a father, to spend time with her and help raise her, I… I can’t ever do that.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Janus regards them grimly. “My memories came back. I know who I am now. But if I tell you, I don’t doubt your majesty will want to sentence me to death.”

Freyja stands abruptly, gripping her pendant. “Explain yourself, immediately.” 

“There’s no time. I need to—” 

“ _Now._ ”

Hesitantly, he replies, “The reason why I couldn’t remember anything wasn’t because I got knocked on the head or somebody cast a curse on me. It’s simply—that evening Princess Karuna found me, I had literally just been born.” 

She scoffs. “You’re a grown man. And I don’t have time for your tricks.” 

“But it’s not a trick! You wanted to know what I was, why _I_ didn’t even know, and when I held Divya in my arms, it all came flooding to me. I’m not human, even if I may look that way. I’m an entirely different species. I wouldn’t know what to call it, except that the blood in my veins runs stronger with the history of dragons than it ever has with any of the royal families. Didn’t you question why I had such innate magical potential? Why I look the way I do? You had every reason to doubt me, your majesty.” 

Janus swallows, his arms falling to rest at his sides. “I’m the physical embodiment of whatever humanity was left in Anankos.”

It’s then the world stops, and only a ringing sounds in Karuna’s ears.

This man—the man she grew to love, and who loved her back—was really the Ancient One all along. The good parts of him, anyway.

She wants to feel sick, knowing she technically laid in bed with a dragon. But Anan—no, no this is Janus. He’s a separate entity from the old, mad god. She wonders if he split apart into a mortal in order to save himself. For the longest time, he’s been trapped like a wounded animal, thrashing about and destroying everything out of pain.

Does he hope to use his mortal self to stop his immortal one? Does he not have confidence that the song he created will temper him completely?

It makes sense now why she had found him along the river that night. Anankos was born from the primordial waters, and so it’s only fitting Janus be birthed from the river as well. 

Freyja is screaming something, and Janus is pleading with her desperately. But Karuna can only stare, ears muffled with the continuous ringing in her ears. Janus pulls a piece of parchment and waves it frantically in front of Freyja. She snatches it out of his hand, reads it over, and shakes her head, gritting her teeth. 

The ground beneath them jolts, knocking all three of them over. Guards rush into the throne room and shout something at Freyja. A mage, bloody and beaten, stands in front of them, breathing like he crossed a hundred mountains. She recognizes him from the party of court mages Latham took with him to Anankos’s cavern earlier in the day. 

Karuna is pulled up by the arm and tugged back to her room. The dim hallways blur through her door, and the nursemaid is crying as she bundles up Divya into a basket. Mica and Birger are there too, frantically stuffing some of Karuna’s things into a knapsack. Their own son is strapped to Birger’s back, also weeping.

Hands cradle her face, a voice hot against her skin. She blinks a few times, and Janus is staring with wide, fearful eyes. 

“—need to go _now!_ ” He takes the wicker basket that Divya is crying in. The lid is tightly shut with a strap, though woven lightly enough so she can breathe. “Karuna, oh my love, I’m so so sorry. If only I had remembered sooner.”

“Wh…,” she shakes her head, “What? You’re… I’m…” 

“No time, milady!” Birger escorts her out a hidden passageway. Her retainers, the nursemaid, and Janus all flow through the narrow corridor. Mica lights the way with a torch until they come to a wooden door. She pushes the large latch away and they traverse through the smell of manure and hay. 

When Castle Gyges had first been built, multitudes of hidden passageways were carved into the walls and underground. It was a security measure in case of a siege. The architects had designed traps into some of them that can only be deactivated by residents of the castle who knew which tiles to press or step on. Every Vallite royal, and all their retainers, know the passageways by heart. The rest of the staff learn when they’re trusted enough to use it. 

The royal bedchambers all lead to the stables so the family will have a horse or gryphon to escape on. Unfortunately for Karuna and her party, no gryphons are around. A soldier notices them emerging from the wall, and quickly explains the mounts were all used to fight in the sky. Only a few horses are left. 

“Please take them,” he says, handing the reigns to Mica and Birger. “All the other animals that weren’t enlisted were evacuated.”

“What is going on?” Karuna asks. 

“ _He’s_ broken from his binding spell, and ravaging the land again. Except this time, King Latham’s kindness didn’t get through to him.”

“You’re… You’re saying he’s—”

“There you are!” Freyja pulls up on a horse, armed with her tome, healing staff, and carrying a weeping Egeria against her chest in a tight sling. A sack is strapped firmly to the saddle. “Get your things together and hurry! We can’t stay here!” 

She’s given no time to argue and is hoisted onto one of the horses. There isn’t one for the nursemaid, the soldier solemnly informs them. The young woman cries, but ushers Karuna away when she offers up her own. “You need to live, milady! You can’t stop him as he is now! I… I will do my best to aid the wounded in your stead!”

Regretfully, she leaves the woman in the care of the soldier, and rides off with Freyja at the lead. 

It’s too early in the afternoon for the sky to be as bloody orange as it is. Smoke chokes the clouds above, and the distant screaming of the Vallite army and citizens assaults her ears. A large divide of fire burns at the bottom of a steep hill, and gryphon riders plunge down behind the veil of burning debris. She recognizes the plunge as an offensive formation all the riders practice should there ever be a mass attack like this one. 

“The spell broke sooner than we anticipated,” Freyja says then, severing the silence of galloping hooves. “Latham went to check on it with half of the court mages. Only one came back, saying Anankos had tricked them into believing he was still bound. It’s when he managed to kill them all.” She blinked, swallowing thickly. “With half our spell casters dead and the king, there’s nothing we can do. To make matters worse, Janus told me the song that we knew was only a portion of the full thing. No wonder it didn’t work as well as it should’ve.”

Janus says nothing, only keeps the pace next to Karuna’s horse.

Valla having a massive mountain range and waterfalls protecting it means it’s difficult for invaders to successfully traverse. But the downside is that it’s also tedious for Vallites to spontaneously flee. It had been so peaceful for centuries that they never thought to have an escape plan, should things go wrong. The first attack from Anankos should’ve prompted them to do so. Maybe then they’d be able to save more lives. 

“We shouldn’t be running,” Karuna speaks up. “We should be there with our army.” 

“I tried. I really did,” Freyja replies. “Our general outright refused. He said we need to warn Nohr and Hoshido about what’s to come. All our strength is fighting back against that beast—including my own retainers—trying to wound him however possible. But Anankos can fly, and he’s massive. I doubt we’d ever be able to get to either country before he strikes.”

“There’s no way to stop him?” Birger asks. “None, your majesty?”

Freyja closes her eyes only for a second, then focuses on the road again. “The dragon gods of old had divine foresight. There was always the possibility they might not be able to ascend, for whatever reason. As a result, they created five divine weapons to slay them as a last resort. But only four have ever been found. They now lay protected within the royal houses of Nohr and Hoshido: Siegfried, Brynhildr, Raijinto, and Fujin Yumi. Nobody knows where the final weapon is, and without it, the other four can only wound Anankos, but not kill him. Despite how powerful our allies are, they alone can’t stop a _demon_ like him.” 

“Regardless of the combined armies’ size,” Janus speaks, finally, “and the divine weapons, only somebody with dragon blood in their veins can kill him. The more potent the blood, the better. Considering this blood thins out with every new royal generation, even if they had the final weapon, it’d still take a lot of their strength to slay him.”

“Then we’re doomed,” Mica notes. 

Janus stares straight ahead, intensely focused. “No. But it’s going to take an insane amount of luck and effort to pull off. We can only pray fortune favors us sooner than later.” 

A monstrous rumble echoes through the land, and they ride faster along the trail. Karuna doesn’t dare look behind her. She can only guess they’re rockslides from the mountains, blocking off all available exits from the valley.

_RUNNING IS FUTILE._

“Damn it,” Freyja hisses. “He’s found us.” She snaps the reigns on her horse and the others follow in haste to the closest mountain path. When they get there, Janus pulls his horse back to a halt. He stares up at the pass, the boulders above dangling precariously from the cliffs.

“This is where we part.”

“What?” Karuna snaps her head in his direction. “Part?”

“You and Freyja must live. The Vallite bloodline is the only one capable of singing the song. My need is here; I can do something to help. I can trap him in Valla, forever. Or at least for a _very_ long time. Except, you might not ever be able to return.”

“No, no you’re not serious. Janus—” 

He guides his horse over to hers, and reaches out, smiling. Cupping her cheek, he says, “I’m so sorry we didn’t have more time together, both as lovers, and as a family. But never forget that I love you, Karuna, and our precious Divya.” Janus kisses her forehead, and an ache pierces her mind. “I could never give you enough, but I’m hoping this gift of foresight will assist you, and our daughter, when you need it.”

From his hip, he procures a small pouch that was tied around his belt. Carefully he opens the basket where Divya is still crying. Janus settles the pouch underneath her blanket. “This will help you, my little one. It’s called a dragonstone.”

“Where did you get that?”

“From a Dragon Vein. There are several, should the stone ever get lost. But only those with dragon blood can make one rise out of the earth.” 

“Yes I know that much; I meant what do I do with it?” 

“The time will come when Divya needs it. You’ll know.” He kisses his child’s head, whispers something to her with a fond smile, and then closes the basket again. “Good bye, my little jewel.” 

“Janus, no, you can’t…!” 

He smiles, and gives her a chaste kiss on the lips. The last one she’ll ever receive from him, she is certain. 

“Thank you for your kindness and your love. One of the only few who still held sympathy for an old god like me. I’ll never forget it. Good bye, Karuna.”

And he takes off on his horse with snapping reigns, back to where his ancient form rampages. 

She wants to cry, to scream, to slay the other half herself. But Freyja pushes her forward, as do her retainers. They gallop into the mountain pass for a while, winding through the boulders and fresh patches of grass. Thin streams of water streak down the sides, pooling in crevices along some flowers. 

Wind whips past her, and a dagger lodges itself in the stone just beside her head. 

Mica unsheathes her sword and Birger his lance. From behind them, the corpses of soldiers glow in a sickening purple haze, their eyes flashing red.

“Go!” Mica shouts, ramming her sword in the chest of one of them. “We’ll hold them off!” 

“I won’t leave you two!” 

“You need to live! You and Queen Freyja have to go on!” Birger swipes his lance across the face of a lifeless mercenary. “That’s why you have retainers! Please, let us do our job!” 

“And if we fall here,” Mica slices through an infantry unit, “then at least we’ll die knowing we used every last bit of strength to protect you!” 

“But your son!” Karuna cries. “What’s going to—he can’t stay here! You need to live too! He needs his parents!” 

“I’m sorry,” Mica says, not to her, but to the crying baby on her husband’s back. “I wish we could see you grow up, train you, make memories as a family.” A tear rolls down her cheek, and Birger grits his teeth as he throws a javelin at an undead infantry. 

“I’ll take him,” Freyja says then, quickly bringing the baby to her chest and strapping him along the sling next to Egeria. Mica helps secure them both, letting a sob slip by her lips. “I’ll remember to tell him his parents were brave. But I hope you and Birger make it out alive.” 

“Can’t promise that, your majesty,” Mica replies, “but thank you all the same. And just in case, good bye, Lady Karuna. It was an honor serving you.”

“We’ll never forget the time we spent with you,” Birger adds with a tearful smile.

Freyja forces her to scurry further into the pass. Karuna snaps the reigns and gallops ahead, tears whipped away by the wind. A booming, almost painful roar echoes around them when they see the clear side of the pass. A small speck in the distance, but there nonetheless. 

“Karuna!” her sister screams. 

Above them the stone begins to crack, and the ground lifts beneath them. They struggle to keep their animals steady, the horses crying out in a panic. Slowly the mountain pass narrows as the ground rises higher and higher. Rocks from above begin to tumble down, and jagged edges jut out of nearby boulders. The horses manage well enough to climb up the new path as dust blinds them and pebbles pelt against their hides. Freyja screams in defiance and slaps her hand against the slippery wall. It glows golden, and a smooth staircase of earth and stone lifts up for them. “Hurry!” 

_YOU MAY ESCAPE_ , Anankos booms, _BUT YOU WILL FIND NO HELP ON THE OTHER SIDE._  

From the crag above, twilight greets them, and the horses climb faster. The babies wail, and neither Freyja nor Karuna stop climbing. The passageway narrows even quicker, and a spike of stone almost pierces through the hide of Freyja’s horse. She takes out her tome, lets it flip pages of its own accord, and she casts a spell, knocking the rocks out of their way. 

_VALLA WILL BE FORGOTTEN TO THE WORLD_ , he threatens. _AND SHOULD YOU SPEAK OF IT, YOU WILL PERISH. THIS CURSE I HEREBY CAST UPON YOU, YOUR PEOPLE—ALL OTHER HUMANS, AND THE HEIRS FROM YOUR WOMBS._

She makes the mistake of looking back, down below from where they had climbed.

Chunks of land float in the air, curling like ribbon and twisting upside down. The rivers flow through the earth, as if weaving them together through the vacant bloody sky. Debris clouds a clear view of how malformed their once beautiful kingdom was, fogging it with a dark grey dust. 

And then Karuna sees it, piercing a shard of ice through her very soul. 

Giant, glowing red eyes with narrow pupils like a serpent’s. Not one, not two. But a cluster, swirling around some invisible axis, all fixed on her and Freyja. A pained distorted howl follows, before the eyes disappear into the debris and back down the canyon. 

_I WILL FIND YOU, UNGRATEFUL HUMANS WHO HAVE FORGOTTEN ME, AND ALL I HAVE DONE FOR YOUR KIND. YOU WILL REGRET YOUR HUBRIS._  

Storm clouds whirl above, clouds that hadn’t been there even a second before. It shields the twilight from them, and then it rains viciously, with thunder booming overhead. The horses whinny in stress, but keep going forward as Freyja guides them. 

On the precipice of their exit, the canyon yanks apart. Both of them scream as the ground splits between their mounts, the children’s cries carried on the unforgiving gales. The gap grows wider and wider, with Freyja on the other side.

“Karuna!” She casts her hand out to the ground, but it doesn’t budge. Panic fills her face, and she snaps her attention back across the canyon. “Karuna!” 

“Freyja!” she screams back, reaching out to try and grab her hand. The horse screeches and steps away, having almost slipped down the cliff side. The canyon stretches from as far as Karuna can see of the mountain, to down south, somewhere off to the distant ocean. “ _Freyja!_ ” 

“We will meet again!” she shouts. “You’ll see! I promise, sister!”

“I…!” The gap widens with every second, and pretty soon Freyja won’t be able to hear her above the rain and thunder. With everything she has, Karuna cries out, “I promise too! Freyja! I promise!” 

She doesn’t know if she hears it, doesn’t know if she should’ve said how much she loves her sister. But Freyja gallops away into the night once the canyon has settled. Karuna looks up at the mountain that once used to border her beloved home of Valla. Now it’s nothing but a buried memory only to a lost queen, and a lost princess.

Half-heartedly, she wonders if this too, is a part of her punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah. Things are looking grim for the Vallite sisters. I wonder how they'll fix this....
> 
> For my returning readers who haven't played the game, how many of you guessed right that Janus was actually part of Anankos himself? I'm curious. That beast is pretty scary, isn't he? His character design is nasty, for a lack of a better word. I normally love dragons, but honestly I'd hate to see his ugly mug any time of day. He's a thing of nightmares, seriously.
> 
> A lot more juicy stuff is coming, so I hope everyone is ready for it, hee hee. Now this is where the _real_ fun begins. *rubs hands together*
> 
> Side note: I read that if your story doesn't get the ball rolling by its fifth chapter, then you're taking too long with the beginning. Apparently that's the average point where the work either makes it or breaks it for readers. Just wanted to give some insight into how I'm pacing the events of part 1, for those curious.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	6. VI

Karuna’s voice carries along the winds, but Freyja can’t hear what she says. Reluctantly, she steers her horse away from the cliff side, and away from her beloved little sister. 

_One day we’ll meet again, Karuna. I promise._  

The rain is unrelenting as she rides. Egeria’s weeping settles down once the storm clouds have dissipated, but Mica and Birger’s son continues to wail beside her. Freyja hums a lullaby as the night sky peeks through the sheet of clouds, and both children go silent as they slumber against her chest. 

She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to care for two children out here. All she managed to bring with her from Valla was a pouch of gold coins, a few pieces of jewelry to sell in emergencies, one change of clothes, and a few other necessities, such as a blanket and hunting knife.

If worse comes to worst, she’ll have to leave the boy in an orphanage. But until then, she’ll care for both children as best as she can. 

Riding slowly through the night is never a wise idea, and so she keeps her horse going regardless of her aching limbs. Eventually she’ll have to find some natural refuge so her mount can rest, but there are hardly any trees in the meadow, and no sign of a forest either. 

There is, however, a river. It’s rather pathetic, the water barely making a sound as it slips over the smooth stones. But where a river lays, there’s bound to be civilization as well. 

Freyja travels southward along the river. The moon shines brightly in the sky with the stars and crickets keeping her company. Any grass she sees is either dead or patched in healthy clumps around random points in the ground. No cicadas buzz nosily in the distance, as they do this time of year in Hoshido. 

She supposes then, that this is Nohr. 

Which means Karuna found herself in Hoshido, or at least one of the neighboring countries. It’s the kinder half of the land, both in resources, and the people. Freyja wouldn’t have it any other way. As much as she trusts Karuna to hold her own in combat, she’s still particularly naïve, and a new mother on top of that, one who has no idea what she should or shouldn’t be doing. 

May the gods bless her in her new life, and keep her strong throughout it. 

After carefully guiding her horse over and around some boulders, a dirt trail winds itself into her view. Freyja follows it until a village creeps onto the horizon. The warm specks of orange glow brighter the faster she rides toward it. 

Nohrians generally don’t traverse at night for fear of bandits and nocturnal subspecies of wyverns. The wolfskin also primarily hunt at night, though they rarely wander away from their mountain (not without reason too; they’re hunted aggressively for the soft, fine fur pelts of their beast forms). 

Freyja stops at an inn and ties the reigns of her horse to a post. Slinging her satchel over her shoulder, she walks in through the creaking door. It’s dimly lit and scarce of people with only a barmaid and two fellows huddled in a corner drinking rum.

“Welcome,” the woman greets as she carries a tray back to the bar. She gives a glance to the babies strapped to Freyja’s chest. “Oh my.”

“Might you have a room for a weary mother?” Freyja asks. “I can pay.”

“Yes, we do have a few vacancies.” The barmaid disappears into the kitchen for a few moments and then returns with a key. “Follow me, miss.” 

The upper floor is mostly quiet, save for a few unsavory moans down the hall. She doesn’t bother to ask about it, knowing well enough what it might be. The barmaid unlocks one of the doors, “Here you go,” and creaks it open to a sparsely furnished room. Only one bed, a small table near the window, a matching chair, and a single mirror. “Baths are scheduled. Washroom is on the other side of the hall. You’ll have to ask me for a key.” 

“It’s fine. All I want is to sleep for now.” Freyja sets the satchel on the table, then gently places Egeria and Mica’s son on the bed. “My horse is downstairs, should you be curious why he’s there.” 

“No problem, miss.” The barmaid loiters at the window, looking down where the horse is standing near the lamp. “That’s a nice one.”

“Yes, he is.” 

“Nice clothes you have on there, too.”

“A hand-me-down, really,” she lies.

The last thing she needs is to rouse suspicion of her identity. But if asked questions, she supposes she can get away with being a harlot. Two children with no father in sight is sadly expected, after all. Still, she needs to sell her current dress, and the one she brought with her for a more inconspicuous ensemble. 

“Okay then.” The barmaid smiles politely. “Breakfast ends at 10 tomorrow morning. Two gold coins a night.” 

Freyja grunts tiredly in response, handing her the payment. “Thank you.” 

Once the young woman leaves, Freyja wrings her dress out the window and sets it to dry on the chair. It does look too ornate with patterns embroidered into it that aren’t recognizably Nohrian, Hoshidan, or any of their smaller, neighboring dukedoms. Lotus flowers don’t grow anywhere except in Valla, and she doubts she’ll ever see their vibrant colors again. But her dress will catch a fair price at the shop, though she doubts she’ll get even half of what it’s worth in a small village like this. She’ll have to travel to a city, preferably Cyrkensia. But how far that is from here, she’ll find out in the morning. 

Sleep is the priority. Can’t start a new life without adequate rest, after all. 

It’s a welcome friend, save for the moments Egeria or the boy cry and reluctantly wake her up. She sings them back into a slumber soon enough, so it isn’t much of a problem.

The next morning, she’s up bright and early and changes into her second set of clothes. She brings the children with her downstairs and sits at a table. Dull morning light filters into the room, but the barmaid is the sun itself, greeting the few customers with a shimmering smile.

“Why, if it isn’t the good miss,” she greets, setting a cup down. “This one’s on the house, for the first night anyway. Freshest milk you’ll find for miles.” 

“Thank you.” And it really is. Cool, not too sweet, and smooth down the throat. “What might I have this morning?”

“Glad you asked!” The barmaid switches the tray to her other arm. “It’s the special—one of each: an egg, biscuit, pork, and a cheese slice.” 

“I’ll take it.”

“Coming right up!”

While waiting for her food, she notices the other patrons looking at her oddly. Egeria and the boy yawn, but continue their slumber against her chest. Freyja strokes both of their heads, humming another tune. 

Anankos’s threat looms over her, and the sight of a hot meal doesn’t do much to settle her stomach. Has Valla really been erased from memory? From history, even? There has to be a way she can find out without triggering the curse. More important still, how many of her people were slaughtered? How many managed to escape somewhere, anywhere? 

Her heart sinks at the thought of having left her people behind. They needed her at their most dire, and she couldn’t uphold the promise, the one thing she prided above all else. The castle staff didn’t berate her for it, though. Quite the opposite: they urged her to flee, from her best general to the stable hands. She protested with them all, even the high priests. But every last one of every age ushered her to escape with Egeria, knowing well the havoc Anankos would cause, should there be no Vallite left to stop him. 

It still isn’t fair. Her people didn’t deserve that fate. But now, she can only pray they forgive her in their next lives. 

_Someday, somehow, I’ll avenge my kingdom, even if my life is the price to pay._  

“Oh, that’s a lovely voice you’ve got there,” the barmaid says, bringing back a fork and knife. “You’ve got some talent.” 

“Thank you,” she replies quietly. “I’ve sung for as long as I can remember. You can say my—,” no, best not to mention her family, “—my voice was blessed by the gods.” 

“I’ll say. You’d make a killing at the opera house.” 

Freyja looks up with wide eyes. “The opera house? Where—how close is it from here? Where am I?”

The woman looks at her as if she’d said pigs were meant to fly. “My, that storm really messed with your head, didn’t it? You’re in Nohr, miss. A little town called Gladesborough. Might not look as lush as the name makes it seem, but we do have more grass and stuff than other places.” 

“How far is Cyrkensia from here?”

“Oh, miss, that’s almost a week’s trip. The border to Nestra is a day away from here, too.” 

“But can I get there by horse?” 

“Uh, well yeah if you’re not afraid of bandits and other things.”

“Hmm.” Freyja cuts up her slice of pork into smaller portions. “I’ve faced worse.”

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Once she regains her strength and the children have been fed, Freyja returns to her horse and sets off down the road. She got detailed directions to Cyrkensia from the barmaid and the few patrons that were willing to help draw a clear route. “It’s the safest,” they had said, “but still keep your wits about you, pretty lady.” 

She had left 5 gold coins for the inn’s hospitality. Shocked, the barmaid gave her a small portion of food for the road until she can get to another town or village. A modest meal: half a loaf of bread, one apple (which she fed to her horse on a rest behind a boulder), a small slice of cheese, and dried pork. 

The route takes her around Mt. Gareau. The inn patrons said there’s a pass within the mountain, but risking it with the wolfskin isn’t wise. She doesn’t mind too much. Not like she’s in a hurry to do anything. Reuniting with Karuna will take careful planning, and some luck on top of it all. Rushing into things isn’t productive. 

Freyja wonders what became of Janus. Considering Anankos sunk back down into the canyon, she supposes the man did something to keep him hidden from the world. Did he die in the process? Or would he live on, being the better half of the ancient god, and couldn’t be killed if Anankos still lived? 

At the end of it all, he truly was a good man. 

Poor Karuna. She never got much of a chance to spend time with her beloved. Had Freyja known this would happen, she would’ve been less protective.

Even more so, she wishes she would’ve spent more time with Latham. He was a good friend, a kind king, and a gentle soul; he didn’t deserve the bloody demise that he got. But she swallows her laments, and continues on her horse. 

A week’s trip to Cyrkensia alone costs her a fair amount of her coin purse. She needed to buy commoner’s garbs, along with new clothes for the children. Her horse had to be fed, and lodging was vital. Once, three bandits tried to attack her, but they were easily dealt with, being no match for her spells. Whatever they left behind in their scramble for safety elsewhere, she took with her. It’s something she isn’t proud of, but gone is the necessity to be courtly and decent. She’s a queen no longer, and so has to relearn how to live. 

This is Nohr, and if she can’t help herself, then nobody will when she’d need it. 

With a slight replenish in her coin purse, she keeps onward. Eventually the sea boasts on the horizon, the breeze gentle with the scent of salt. The dirt road becomes paved with cobblestone, and another town greets her.

The buildings are no longer structured with much wood, instead having gray stones stuck together with some sealant. She takes up lodging there at another inn, nicer than the last, and marks on her map where she might be. Gladesborough is five days away now, so she must be getting close to Cyrkensia.

She spends dinner at the inn, speaking with the other patrons who share tables nearby. Both women and men are lively and cheerful, though a bit vulgar. But an innocent sort of joy is laced between the creases of their eyes and the loud belches from a hardy meal. 

“But tell me,” a burly man brings up a chair and sets it next to her, sitting down in reverse, his arms resting on the top of the backrest, “what’s a lovely lass like you doing on your own with two little ones, eh?”

“Ooh yes!” the woman next to him chirps. “You never did tell us how far you’ve traveled!”

“Ah, well,” she strokes the children’s heads, “I lived in a town somewhere up north, closer to the canyon that divides the land with our eastern neighbors. But it was ransacked by a vicious group of bandits, and my husband perished trying to fight them off. This boy here,” she pats his head lightly, “isn’t my own. A couple we knew stayed to fight, forcing me to flee with their son. I’m all he has now.” 

“That’s so sad!” the woman weeps. “Oh you poor thing!” 

“But you’ve got some guts to travel all the way down here!” the man remarks. “Fighting off a group of bandits even. Hate to be on the wrong side of your book there. Can’t say a lot of us in this town know magic. That’s mostly stuff for bigger city folk.” 

“It can be difficult to learn,” Freyja says with a smile, “so you’re not missing out on anything. I’ve been studying it for years, and I still have trouble with spells that should come simply to me.” 

“Well there’s an academy at Cyrkensia.” The woman nods, before taking another swig of rum. “Kinda small, but they can help you with it. Gotta pay a price though, so it’s mostly stuffed shirts that go there.”

“Stuffed shirts?” 

“Them nobles,” the man grunts. “The lot of ‘em are a bunch of good-for-nothin’s.”

“Surely there are some that aren’t all that bad.” 

“No, not all of ‘em,” the woman huffs, waving her cup around in the air to signal the barmaid, “but the ones who are good kinda die ‘randomly’.” She looks around, before leaning in close. “It’s a conspiracy, I think. The rotten nobles don’t like the good ones tryin’ to help us _peasants_ with better jobs and a bunch of other crap.” 

A barmaid comes and refills their drinks. Both people in her company take long jugs of it down, before the man says, “Nestra’s monarchy is decent enough. Sucks we’ve got a hell of a lotta desert, the further west you go. Hard to grow food, but what we do get is good.” 

The woman smiles lazily. “Don’t worry your pretty head about that, though. You’re gonna do great at singing! The ladies get paid well, and always look so fancy! Heard they eat pretty good too. Not like nobles, but definitely better than whatever the hell we got here.”

It isn’t much of a surprise the monarchies of Nohr and its neighbors aren’t the most generous. But to hear the possibility the nobles with golden hearts mysteriously pass whenever they help the lower classes too much, is worrisome. Katerina had never said anything before, though presumably it was implied with the way she often spoke of the court.

By the end of the night, Freyja has just enough coin left to traverse the rest of the way to Cyrkensia. She follows the new cobblestone path of the sea the next morning, until it finally appears once the sun sets. 

“Oh,” she breathes in relief, “thank the gods,” riding her horse into an eager gallop into the gates of the city. 

Cyrkensia is a fairly large city, and the most well known in Nestra. It reclines on one of the several peninsulas of the country, with the waters clearer the further south one travels. The city boasts fine entertainment, both for the general public, and some less savory. Food is always plentiful and delicious, whether serving nobles, or gathered for the common folk. The architecture is earthen laid with bricks, engraved with floral patterns in both the stone and the metal embellishments. Palm trees stand proud, lining the shore and adorning gaps in the city. 

Still, she’ll have to keep her wits about her. A large city means more crime, and so she hides her coin purse further into the interior pocket of her cloak.

It’s not too heavy now, but she has enough for another night at an inn. The rest she’ll have to earn from selling her dresses and the jewelry she brought with her. 

The inn she finds rests on the edge of the center-most part of the city. It’s the cleanest she’s seen yet, not made out of wood, and every room has its own bath. Small, but private. There are even carpets on the floor, and curtains along the windows. 

“Eight gold coins a night,” the innkeeper says. She’s an older woman with silver stretching into her once vibrant green locks, Freyja is sure. “Two more for lodging your horse here too.” 

Freyja frowns at the hidden expense, but pays her nonetheless. “When is breakfast?” 

“Until half past 10 every morning. Lunch at noon, and supper around five, sometimes six, depending on our cook. But food’s good, and so’s the drink. All I ask is you keep the little ones from crying too much, alright?”

“Of course.”

“Good, good.” The woman smiles at her palm, counting the coins. “Oh, and we do keep record of our guests here. Don’t want ruffians disturbing the peace. Your name, miss?” 

She can’t say Freyja. The curse might activate, or Anankos might find her. She doesn’t know what Janus did to him after all. While she can only hope he’s been contained, his dominion over the departed is extremely worrisome. The last thing she wants are rotting corpses scenting her out like a dog would a pheasant.

But no name comes to her, until she thinks of Karuna, and her love of stories. Freyja never read as many, but they would swap books now and again. A few she kept to herself in embarrassment of how detailed and passionate they were. One female protagonist in particular she really resonated with.

The woman had been a simple farmer at the beginning of the story, and then became queen at the end after a long journey of fighting the enemy to protect her country. (There were also romantic scenes but those mattered little to the overall plot; they were simply a nice bonus.) If Karuna were here, she’d certainly laugh in good humor, especially at that secret favorite book, so secret that even Latham didn’t know about it. 

Freyja would like to keep the memory of her family close, even that undisclosed experience. Maybe then she won’t get as homesick.

“Arete,” she says simply. “My name is Arete.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy first day of June everyone! Who's ready for summer? I sure am.
> 
> So we're gonna give some time for Freyja--sorry, Arete, to illustrate to us her experiences in Nohr. How is Karuna doing meanwhile? She'll get her POV again in due time. For now, I want to focus on Arete since we never got to see much of her in the game, and even then she was only briefly plot relevant in _Revelation._ Gonna try to do her character some justice in part 1 of my rewrite.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	7. VII

It takes her a couple of days to get used to addressing herself as ‘Arete’ to others, and longer still to her own self. But eventually she comes to terms with the true beginnings of her new life, and so buries ‘Freyja’ within the deep recesses of her heart. 

She figures she ought to give Egeria a new name too: ‘Azura’, like the innocent blue of her hair. Like the sky too, for she hopes one day, Azura will be freed from this curse to fly wherever she wishes, and Anankos slain at that.

Being that her entire family is now cursed, she hopes that somehow, someway, Karuna will have the same amount of sense and change her name too, along with Divya’s. It’d make it that much harder to find her in the future, but her sister’s well-being is more important than a reunion. A melancholic compromise, but it’s for the better.

One positive to her inn is that the keeper voluntarily offers nanny services. She has enough staff (and trust in them) to keep the place going without her constant supervision. This Arete finds out when she answers why she’s here in the first place. 

“I used to be a singer, y’know,” the old woman says—Margharita, is her name. “Was a long time ago, but boy did I love it.” 

“Did you work at the opera house?” Arete asks as she eats her complimentary breakfast. She’d been there a few days already, having sold her fancy dress, and half of her jewelry. It garnered enough coin to keep her at the inn for quite a while. 

“Yes I did, though I wasn’t the star of the show. My singing was only good enough to be a dancer in the background for chorus and stuff.” Margharita sighs, refilling Arete’s cup with freshly squeezed berry juice. “But then I had a son, and two daughters, and another son after that. They let me go, you see, because singers and dancers with families are a liability.”

This she never knew since first coming to the opera house as a child.

Problematic predicament now. She had wanted to avoid this if possible, but things are looking bleak for the boy currently slumbering up in her room. No way in the heavens will she leave Azura, but he’ll have to be given up if she ever hopes to make a stable living. 

“Even knowing you had a family,” she starts, “they still let you go?” 

“Had all my children close together, one right after the other.” Margharita smiles tiredly. “Me being gone for months at a time, well, my temporary replacement became permanent. I only survived because my husband inherited this inn here from the original keeper when that fellow died. But not long after my youngest turned 4, did my husband die too.” 

“My condolences.”

“Ah,” she shoos her hand at Arete, “it happened a long time ago. All my children are grown, and don’t even live in Cyrkensia anymore. My eldest son decided to settle in Notre Sagesse. Daughters all married, one up north somewhere, and the other in Cheve. My youngest—well I don’t even know where he is. Hasn’t written to me in a while. Used to work at the docks in Port Dia. But now, who knows?”

She remains quiet for a moment, staring off at nothing along the wooden table. Then she blinks, shaking her head. “But I tell you this ‘cause having your children—‘specially babies, might make getting an opera job hard. I can look after them for you if you’d like. Kinda miss having kids around.”

“That’s too much of a burden to ask of you, especially with running the inn.” 

“My staff is reliable, even when I’m out sick. I’ll do it free of charge. Not getting any younger here. Won’t you implore this old lady and let her feel young again? Can’t say I’ll survive being ill another time.” 

Well, she has nothing to lose. If she ever hopes of raising Azura to sing the song, to give her even the slightest chance of survival, she’ll need to accept all the help offered. 

“Alright,” she agrees, “if you’re certain it won’t be a bother.”

“Not at all!” Magharita smiles warmly, excitement lighting up in her eyes. “Now go and make yourself prettier, Arete. You’ll want that job as soon as you can! Nohr’s king and queen like to come down here before autumn rolls around. They’ll be busy with their harvests and stuff the rest of the year, as little as they may be.”

That’s right. Katerina had said she and Garon come to the opera house before the weather is too harsh for extensive travel. If Arete plans accordingly, she might be able to obtain a job before that time comes around.

After breakfast, she goes out on her horse and travels the city looking for a new dress. The one she finds is a deep blue with white accents. Not too costly, and it’s enough to match her remaining jewelry. 

It’s all she can afford for a while, and so changes into it back at the inn before going off on her horse again. 

During the day, the opera house is closed to the public for cleaning and for the performers to practice their routines. She walks in through the backdoor, telling the guard stationed there that she’s to have an interview.

He doesn’t believe her until she samples her singing. Wide eyed and mouth agape, he quickly shuffles aside, and lets her in.

When she was still the Vallite queen, she’d come here with Latham four times a year; once every season. As a ruler, she never saw it fit to be away for long from her kingdom, but he implored her for a much-needed vacation. It’s through this way that she knows how to traverse the opera house, and finds the owner at the top floor, munching on a plate of delicacies with a servant nearby.

He’s an older man, rounded out like a wild hog, with an unruly moustache. Gambino is his name, Arete is sure. Back then, he’d try to kiss her feet and that of other royals whenever they’d visit, but she never quite liked him. Sneers at the lower classes, thinking them only good for entertainment. Not that he has anything to brag about. Rich only because of his family’s success with the opera house, but otherwise rotten like the decaying carcass of a wild ass.

Arete clears her throat to get his attention. Gambino looks over his shoulder with a furrowed brow, and focuses back on the stage below where dancers are practicing their routine. Then he looks over his shoulder again, eyes wide. 

Does he recognize her? Half of her prays for the affirmative, if only to give her some form of hope that the curse is a farce. He stands, smoothing out his clothes and wiping his mouth on a napkin. Then he gives her a smile she knows to be a charming façade, an ill attempt at that. 

“I was about to call for a guard,” he says, striding over to her, “but that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to do to such a…,” his gaze trails down, and her skin crawls, “ravishing woman.”

“You’re too kind,” and she tries her damnedest to sound sincere. 

Gambino chuckles. “I speak only the truth.” He takes her hand and kisses it. She’ll definitely be scrubbing it for a fortnight afterward. “What can I do for you, Miss…?” 

So, he doesn’t know who she is after all. She breathes out any shattered hope, letting it sink to her stomach.

“Arete. I came here to ask for a job within your opera house.” 

“Oh, well, we have plenty of singers and dancers already.” Usually, he’d never speak to common folk so politely, but she supposes her grooming is what’s feigning any sense of class in his eyes. “But, I suppose an interview wouldn’t be so out of the question.” He snaps his fingers at the servant. “Prepare the sun room, and some hors d’oeuvres for our guest. _Quickly._ ” 

The servant scurries off, taking the plate of food with him and bowing. Gambino then holds out his arm, and Arete takes it with internal dismay. He boasts about his opera house and the kind of work his performers do. She listens silently, only speaking when he asks her something, usually her interests.

She has a feeling he’s looking for more than just an interview, but she keeps the thought at the back of her mind. 

When they get to the sunroom, the servant is there setting a table by the window. The entire space is elegantly furnished with emerald furniture and elaborate oil paintings, some plants in the corners. Gambino draws a chair for her and she sits as the servant fills her glass with wine.

“Now then, to business.” Gambino takes a sip of his glass. “What sort of pay are you looking for?”

“I’m willing to start small and work my way to a larger sum. Enough to sustain me and—,” Magharita’s words come to mind, so she thinks better than to mention Azura, “—my future.” 

“Hmm,” he nods up at nothing, leaning back in his chair, “but you need a voice if you hope to make as much as the veteran performers.” 

“Singing and dancing I have done since I was a child. It’s the one thing I have no doubts in.” 

“Then show me, right here.” He picks up a slice of bread with some paste and fish on it, gnawing on it like a cow along a pasture. “Impress me, and we’ll draw up a contract.” 

“Very well.” 

Arete rises, and walks to the center of the room. Most of the songs and dances she knows are Vallite, but even they might be cursed. Instead, she goes for an old Nestrian melody and dance. It’s one she had seen the first time her father took her and Karuna to the opera house. They no longer play it, last she attended, so it should be enough to convince Gambino. 

Spreading out her arms, she begins to sing, waltzing around the room. Her long hair trails behind her, flowing like a curtain in the wind. Arete twirls as her voice rises higher, eyes closed as she loses herself in the memory of her smiling father, and an enchanted Karuna. 

They had been seated in one of the gondolas on the water, right in front of the stage. Petals of all types of flowers floated on the surface, the lights sparkling on the gentle waves. The women of the original song were like liquid itself, flowing seamlessly along with the lead singer’s tempo.

It was later that evening that she bore a desire to sing and dance. Her father had grinned, saying she’d be the best one in the whole world someday.

When Arete finishes, she curtsies. The servant claps wildly, looking on the verge of tears. Gambino shushes him after he closes his gaping mouth equally as big as his eyes. 

“My, that was,” he slumps in his chair, running a hand back through his receding hairline, “well, I’ve never heard— _seen_ anything like that!” 

Telling. He cares little for the actual intricacies of the performing arts, and only lives as he does now because of his family’s adoration for it. He doesn’t deserve to own the opera house, but Arete isn’t here to chastise him. 

“When I was younger,” Arete begins, “I used to come here with my father. But circumstances beyond my control have withered away the fortune I was blessed with. Now I seek to rebuild my life in this magical place. I’ll bring great attention to your establishment, if you’ll have me employed.” 

“But of course!” Gambino snaps his fingers at the servant again. “Bring me parchment and my quill. We have a contract to make.” 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Magharita is ecstatic at the news when Arete returns to the inn. She finds the old woman in her room, looking after Azura and the boy. Azura coos as Magharita plays with her meanwhile the boy sleeps alongside them on the bed. 

“There is, however, a downside,” she confesses solemnly.

“What? But you said it was great!” 

“He asked me if I had any children when it came to my lodging. I couldn’t lie to him. Or, not completely. He’d find out eventually.” 

“And what happened?” 

She pauses, before saying, “I told him I only had one daughter a year old. Since making my way to Nestra, I knew eventually I wouldn’t be able to care for this boy. He’s not mine; a friend entrusted him to me before she perished. But unfortunately, I can’t keep both children like I thought I would. Gambino needs to set up my lodging for a day or two. So tomorrow, I’m going to leave the boy at the nearest orphanage. I don’t want to do it, but Azura is my priority. Cyrkensia is a fine place, and I’m sure he’ll be well taken care of.” 

Magharita stills for a moment, gazing down at the sleeping boy. She ceases playing with Azura, setting the small stuffed toy in her aimless grasp. 

“Tell you what.” She rises from the bed, cracking her back. “I won’t charge you for the remaining days until you live at that fancy villa with the other performers. But in exchange, I wanna keep the boy.” 

“Oh,” Arete shakes her head, “no I couldn’t possibly dump an infant into your arms.”

“Like I said, I ain’t getting any younger. Humor this old woman. I’ll still be manning the inn, but my staff can take care of the rest. At least here the boy won’t risk being adopted into some kinda bad luck.” 

“I… I don’t know what to say.” 

Magharita places a hand on her shoulder, grip tight yet welcoming. “Don’t say anything. Save your voice for the opera, okay? You can come visit him whenever you’d like. Now, go knock everyone off their feet!” 

Arete nods, and smiles as another weight crumbles off her shoulders. 

She still leaves some coin for Magharita’s hospitality the morning she departs, and a little extra to begin a savings fund for the boy. Then she takes Azura in her sling, and rides the horse to her new lodging. 

It’s not exactly a villa, as the ones of antiquity would’ve had more open space and no doors, only doorways. But it’s just as grand as one: two floors, with pristine marble and exterior walls in a gentle peach pigment. A servant takes her horse as Gambino waits by the entrance of the villa. He makes no comment on Azura and instead escorts her inside. 

Her room is on the second floor, overlooking the garden pool. She has her own alcove for bathing, and there’s even a crib for Azura to lay in. 

“Took it out of your first pay,” Gambino mentions casually. “But that shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“No, of course not. Thank you.” 

“I take care good of my performers, Miss Arete.” Sure he does. “Well, I’ve arranged for an instructor to coordinate your performances. You won’t be going on for a while, at least singing. I want to have you prepared for when the Nohrian king and queen visit at the end of the summer. Meantime, you’ll be a silent dancer for one of our veterans. One of her own sprained her ankle, so she’s useless to us now.” 

Of course she is. He treats his staff like livestock. 

“Thank you for the opportunity,” she says, biting her tongue. 

“Thank _you_ for being such a blessing, Miss Arete.” Gambino saunters out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Arete places Azura in the furnished crib and strokes her head. “It’s not ideal,” she whispers, “but it’ll have to be enough until we can find your aunt and cousin. One day we’ll figure out how to solve the _other_ matter as well. But for now, this is the best I can do for you, Azura.”

Eventually, she realizes, she’ll have to teach her daughter the song. The missing verses burn a hole through her satchel as it rests on a chair. She eyes it reluctantly. Janus gave his life to offer the Vallite royal family a chance to defeat Anankos. But singing alone won’t do much when the time comes. She’ll have to teach Azura how to fight too, in case her voice fails her. 

 _But, is the song also cursed, I wonder?_  

Days later, she finds that, yes, the song is cursed. 

A molten, searing pain shoots through her body. Faint purple specks blotch her skin from her face to her toes. She bites on a towel so as to not scream and wake the entire villa. If she gets sick, no doubt Gambino will throw her to the streets, finding her ‘useless’ like a lame mare. Maybe she should’ve waited until her first performance to try out the song.

Fortunately, the pain and blotches subside within a few minutes, leaving her in a cold sweat. 

“Gods,” she gasps, “that—damn, _damn_ that creature.” 

She looks over to Azura’s crib who continues to sleep undisturbed. There has to be another way she can teach her daughter the song. There _has_ to be. She can’t put her child through that pain, put such a weight on her shoulders. But, if she doesn’t, then they might never be able to stop Anankos. 

It’s either Azura is spared the pain and the world dies, or the mad god is slain to save all of humanity. 

 _Oh, my sweet girl, please forgive me. I never wanted this for you, but everyone will be doomed if we don’t._  

For now, she’ll leave the matter at the back of her mind. She needs to focus on practicing her performance for when Garon and Katerina arrive at the end of summer. Arete stands on trembling legs once the sweating stops. She takes a deep breath, and tries only the dance of the ancient song. It doesn’t bring her pain. Sensible, as a dance will do nothing without music. It’s the lyrics, then, that are cursed. Good enough. She can teach Azura the dance first, and once she’s memorized it, she can move on to the lyrics. Arete will warn her about the pain, of course, without explicitly saying anything of Valla. 

She then goes to sleep, limbs heavy and mind drained. 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Over the next several weeks, Arete practices her routines for the main dancer of the performance. It comes easy to her, almost a joke even. Some of the other dancers give her looks because of it, but she says nothing. She’s not here to make friends, only to work. 

“Just so you know,” the veteran dancer, Fina, tells her one evening at the communal dinner, “for this performance, all eyes are on me.” 

“Yes, I know.” 

“Have you noticed your fellow dancers all have their hair short?” 

“Didn’t cross my mind before.” Though now that she thinks of it, it is rather odd all of them have hair cropped just beneath their ears, and Fina’s is long, twirled in a braid. 

“That’s because it’s my policy—Gambino’s policy, almost. Main dancers don’t get to have their hair long so as not to take attention away from the star performers.”

Arete takes another bite of her sea bass. “I’ll bring it up with him then.” 

“But I just said—” 

“I’ll bring it up with him, then.” 

Fina’s lip curls before returning back to her healthy portion of potatoes and pork. Some of their fellow dancers look at Arete in disdain, and others in mild appreciation. Has she been the only one to speak up to her? 

When she mentions the hair length to Gambino, he tells her to ignore Fina.

“Just keep your hair in a braid, or whatever.” He shoos his hand dismissively at her as he goes through several papers on his desk. “It won’t flow or get in the way. You’ll need it long for your debut.” 

There’s no arguing with him. Fina finds out the hard way once she confronts Gambino about it with Arete present. He tells her to adapt, or risk her performances getting replaced with a new play he’s been sent. Her hands clench at her sides, shooting Arete a burning glare, but otherwise doesn’t protest. 

At this point, she knows she’s lost favor with Fina, but she doesn’t quite care. She simply performs her routine, ever silent and unobtrusive during the evening shows. When it’s over, Fina sticks her nose in the air, making a point to whip her hair around to ‘accidentally’ smack Arete in the face. 

 _One day she’s going to lose those precious locks._  

Finally, the end of summer comes around. Arete is removed from Fina’s routine to continue practicing her own steps and song for longer hours. She hasn’t made any friends since being hired, even with the meeker dancers. Regardless, they wish her good luck before she goes on stage. 

Anticipation bubbles in her chest, but she breathes deep, exhaling slowly. There’s nothing to be nervous about. She’s worked hard, and performing runs in her blood, her very soul. Gambino introduces her from behind the curtain, and Arete steps out onto the elegant maroon platform. 

Every corner of the audience is silent, the stage full, even the gondolas. Up on the reserved balcony sit Garon and Katerina with their retainers and guards behind them. They don’t make any sort of expression that signals they know her. 

She feels the slightest bit of disappointment, and even sorrow. But she swallows it away, and poises herself. 

The music [begins](https://youtu.be/tq0bxkvKVDI); she takes one step forward, then two, and starts to sing. The beat swirls around her, arms outstretched, as she glides from one end of the stage to the other. Arete closes her eyes and smiles, long hair and dress whirling around her. She’s doing this performance alone, no other dancers to distract her, and so there’s no room for error.

It’s a song that’s been played in Nohr for centuries, speaking of its glory and blessings. Outside the country, it’s rarely heard, even in the opera house. Perhaps why Gambino suggested it to impress the royalty. With his excess number of musicians and composers, they were able to come up with a slightly more modern melody when he first brought it up. 

Usually, both in the court and with the common folk, the song is only played with lyres and a bard’s voice. But the composers had the ingenious idea to implement bagpipes, flutes, and violins, alongside the old elements. It created such a pleasing melody when Arete first heard it, that it stuck in her head every day since. 

She splays her hands out, and water droplets begin to join at her fingertips. Gambino allowed her to use magic during her routine when she had asked. No other dancers know how to cast it, and he thought it’d be a great addition to her performance. 

A little white lie, however. No spell or incantation is needed for this. The Vallite royal family has always been able to control water, to an extent. The citizens, the ones whose veins run with Vallite blood, are even able to traverse the land through lakes. 

But it does them no good if Anankos blocked out the lakes with boulders. 

She shakes it off, and continues her rhythm. 

Water flows around her like a gale, sparkling in the lights overhead. Her hair trails behind her like a veil, and the few pieces of jewelry she adorns glimmer alongside it. She almost forgets to stop once the music ends. But she catches herself just in time, coming to a graceful bow, as the water drizzles back into the pool surrounding the stage. 

Slowly the claps start, then the people stand, until the audience is roaring with applause. Garon, for the first time since she’s known him, actually looks impressed, even mildly shocked with his eyebrows hiked up to his hairline. Katerina jolts up from her seat and claps loudly, shouting for an encore. 

Arete smiles, a weak sob escaping her as she blinks back her tears. 

When the show is over, she’s escorted to the hall where Garon and Katerina await in their fine regal ensembles. 

“That was incredible!” the queen shouts. “Oh my dear gods, I’ve never heard anything quite like it. And Nohr’s song too! Our—Our folk song even! How did…?” 

“It was Gambino’s idea,” she admits. For once, he actually did something original, instead of just imitating things his family is used to. “But I was eager to perform it, having been so enthralled with the music.”

“I’ll say! You should come perform at the castle sometime!” Katerina nudges Garon with her elbow. “Shouldn’t she, dear?” 

“Yes.” He gives the faintest smile, pressing a hand to his armored chest. “I don’t think we’ve properly introduced ourselves, Miss…?” 

“Arete.” 

“What a lovely name.” 

“Thank you. And I know plenty well who I’m speaking to. Gambino wouldn’t stop reminding me who I’d be performing for.” Arete curtsies. “It’s a great honor to meet you both, King Garon and Queen Katerina.” 

“The pleasure’s all mine—ours, I should say.” Garon takes her hand and kisses it softly, never breaking eye contact. “Had Gambino informed us of a new performer, we would’ve visited several times over the summer.” 

“Now, now,” Katerina pats him away, perhaps reading his one-track mind when it came to beautiful women, “we have a country to run. We can’t always be taking vacations, as much as I’d like that.” 

“Of course. It was merely a suggestion.”

Arete clears her throat and curtsies again. “Well, I best be on my way. You two must be looking forward to some rest, after all.” 

“Yes, but why don’t you join us? Or me, specifically.” Katerina offers. “I’d love it if you could have a pint with me! Just one! Garon is going to be busy with some negotiations in another room.” 

“She always does this,” he replies lightly. “She finds a new friend, and then leaves me to work alone.” 

“Oh stop your whining, you old goat. I’m the one doing the most work back home anyway!” She chortles, slapping him playfully on the back. “It’s just for tonight.”

“Very well. Go off an enjoy yourself.” 

Katerina grins at him before tugging Arete away. She escorts her to the elaborately furnished carriage and then they’re off, roaming around the city. They sit in silence for a moment, listening to the bustle of the evening community. Katerina observes her pointedly, then sighs.

“Sorry about my sudden invitation,” she begins. “But I know my husband, and so I know that look in his eye when he sees something—some _one_ that he wants.” 

“Oh, I… yes, I understand.” Arete smooths out the creases in her dress. “But I can assure you, I’ve no interest in being a mistress. I wish to remain a performer, and raise my daughter. That’s all.” 

“You have a child?” 

Arete nods. “She’s a year old. My sweet little Azura. From circumstances beyond our control, we had to flee our mountain home. My husband has passed, as have most of the people in my village. So, I decided to put my talents to good use, and come here. She deserves a decent life.” 

Katerina’s gaze softens. She places a gentle hand on Arete’s knee, saying, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

“It’s fine, your majesty. I understand why you were suspicious of me, or might still be. I don’t blame you for it.” 

“Still, I shouldn’t have feigned pleasantries.” Katerina sits back, crossing her arms. She slouches in her seat, legs spread. Arete smiles, having always loved the casual air her old friend carries with her wherever she goes, royal titles be damned. “But, I’d like to start again. Might we still go out for a pint? I can take you back to the opera house otherwise.”

“No, I don’t mind going with you. Though, I should say now I was never a drinker, or around many who were. Not sure how well I’d do in such an atmosphere.” 

“Ha!” Katerina sits up, a new fire in her eyes. “Well then, you’re about to find out. I can outdrink everyone in my country, even Garon himself. An iron liver, one I’m proud of. Takes me forever to even feel woozy.” 

Arete chuckles. “You make it sound so exciting. Now I’m curious to see such a display, your majesty.”

“Please, call me Katerina. Never liked formalities. Other nobles of the land will definitely tell you such about me.” 

She smiles warmly, a gentle and sincere shine to her eyes. Arete swallows again, knowing her friend won’t remember her anytime soon, if at all. But she’ll take what she can get, and start anew. Katerina is fierce and commanding when on the throne, yet simultaneously gentle with all, even the street urchins. Many are fortunate to be blessed with her presence. 

Nohr will never have a better queen, Arete is sure. 

“Of course, Katerina.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to try adding in some of the songs from the _Fire Emblem Fates_ OST for mood music. "Dusk Falls" is my favorite out of all the songs in the game (both the calm version and the 'fire' one), so I couldn't resist putting it in here. But what do you all think? Good or bad idea? Let me know in the comments below!
> 
> Er, I actually don't know what to do with Mica and Birger's son. Might just have his story end here, or maybe have him turn out to be a canon male character in part 2? Haven't decided yet. (Though I kinda have an idea already of who he can be from the canon cast, tbh.) Any feedback would be highly appreciated!
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	8. VIII

Unfortunately, she never sees Katerina again after that night. 

At the beginning of the next year, when the snow is still fresh upon the ground, word travels like a fever that the queen has died. 

Murdered, actually.

It’s difficult to dance afterward. Gambino notices and starts drilling Arete to keep her concentration. Other dancers tell her the steps seem slow, almost sad. They ask if it’s due to the queen’s death, and then say they understand. Because everyone loved the queen, even in the country of Nestra. 

No, they can never truly understand. 

How in the world did Katerina get herself into such a mess? She was always so strong, so observant. Her jovial and brusque nature was only partially a farce to throw others off guard. Arete knows the concubines Garon keeps always whispered of wanting to be queen, but she never thought one of them would actually go forth with a plot. 

She doesn’t get details about the death, no matter who she asks. Only that the culprit was caught; it was one of the concubines, as suspected. Said woman was publically executed via guillotine for treason against the crown. 

It isn’t until Garon comes at the eve of spring does she find out more. Arete performs again with much more vigor and precision in hopes to alleviate some of the hurt he’s suffering. She knows he’s a promiscuous man, and not the best husband, or even the best father. But there had always been a reason Katerina remained at the throne, regardless of his other lovers, some much younger than she was. 

Arete doesn’t call it love, not real love. For if you love someone, you remain faithful. But there had always been an amount of respect and affection for Katerina that Garon never gave to any of his concubines. Or maybe, it was that Katerina had compromised. He could have as many lovers as he wanted, so long as she kept the throne to care for her people. 

Katerina will always be his queen, he had mentioned once, and no harlot can ever tempt him to share the crown, especially to a person of common blood.

But maybe it’s that very reason why one finally threw herself over the edge. 

Garon requests Arete to sing for him at dinner, alone, with only his retainers and little Alexander there, 5 years old now. The poor boy is curled within himself, not looking up at anyone. Vacantly just staring at his plate, still steaming with food. His eyes are red, and Arete can only assume he’d been crying elsewhere. 

“Xander,” Garon starts, “you must eat. Don’t let food go to waste, son.” 

Wordlessly, he cuts his portion of steak with slow strokes. Arete doesn’t comment, and only continues to sing. When she’s done, Garon calls for another chair, gesturing to it with his hand. 

“You needn’t trouble yourself,” she says when another hot plate and glass of wine is set down in front of her. “It would be best if I simply returned to my room.” 

“Nonsense.” Garon doesn’t look up, only motions to the seat again. “Please, my dear, sit. The cooks worked hard on the meal, I’m sure.” 

Hesitantly she sits down to eat. It’s silent for several moments with only the muffled sound of music from the theater keeping them company some ways off. Arete watches Alexander who has only taken a few bites of steak, and eaten only a few pieces of carrot off to the side. His buttered potato goes untouched, as does the fine custard pastry on a dish next to him. 

Alexander sniffs, and wipes away a stray tear with his sleeve. He gives Arete a glance before quickly looking away, and slowly cuts another portion of his meal. 

“There will be no one to replace her,” Garon says, breaking the silence. Whether speaking to her, or his son, she isn’t sure. 

“My deepest condolences, your majesty,” Arete begins. “Queen Katerina was truly a blessing upon us all.” 

“That she was.” He takes a swig of wine. “What have you heard of the news?” 

“Only that she was assassinated, and the culprit beheaded.” 

Garon hums in reply. “It was a message to all, that threats upon my family are punished harshly.” 

“Understandable. A life for a life seems fair.” 

He gives her a quizzical look, and nods once. “More so now that Xander is without a mother. But I suppose it was time he began his grooming as heir, anyway. Coddling will do him little good in the future.” He looks across the table where Alexander has his head hung, poking at a pea with his fork. “Don’t play with your food, son.” 

“I-I’m sorry, Father.” He scoops the pea with the fork and slowly slips it into his mouth. 

Arete lets silence fall between them again, unsure of what to say. She has a slight urge to reassure Alexander things will be fine, but she knows that’s a lie. He might not wish to speak, anyway. He’s always been an incredibly shy boy, even with his mother around, to the point where he has difficulty making friends. Now, it’ll only get worse, she’s sure. 

“Miss Arete,” Garon starts, “I didn’t just come here to enjoy another magnificent performance of yours. I came with purpose, a proposition.”

“How do you mean?” 

“I want you to return with me to Krakenburg, to sing and dance for the court. I can pay you well, and your child won’t want for anything.”

“Oh, I…,” Azura would definitely never want for anything, but suspicious of Garon’s true intentions, Arete has no agenda to get involved in the drama of concubines, “I think that’s too grand of an honor for someone like me.” 

“It is not, I can assure you. Your voice is soothing to the point where it feels as if all strife has evaporated from the world. We could use some of your light back home. Plus,” he speaks quietly, now, “I’m sure Xander will benefit from hearing it.” 

She doesn’t know if the boy hears the last bit. He only stares numbly at his pastry, picking at the powdered sugar atop it. Garon perhaps brought him for security, not wanting his only rightful heir to perish too. If Arete can be another pair of watchful eyes, then she’ll do it. 

“Alright then,” she agrees. “I’ll come with you, King Garon.” 

He gives a pleased grunt, going back to his food. Silence blankets the room, save for the clinking of silverware. Then he says, “I appreciate it, Miss Arete. I know Katerina would’ve too.” 

“Of course, your majesty.” 

  
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Gambino isn’t thrilled by Arete’s new occupation. He tries to argue about the contract, as lightly as he can, but Garon is resolute, and pays him a hefty sum of coin to silence him. He grumbles off to the side, but thanks the king for his generosity. 

Arete remains in Cyrkensia for another day until Garon is ready to leave. She takes the time to say good bye to Margharita who congratulates her on her new career. 

“You’ve really moved up the ladder, haven’t you?” 

“I suppose so, yes.” 

“Oh, good luck in Nohr. You’re gonna need it. Heard a few scary things about the capital.” 

“I’m aware, and I wouldn’t have agreed if I couldn’t handle myself.” 

“Just keep your wits about you, alright? Ever since they killed the queen…” 

“Yes, I know,” Arete replies grimly. 

The trip to the Nohrian border takes a week, and another still to Castle Krakenburg. Along the way, Garon introduces her to the nicer parts of the land and lavishes her with good meals and fine rooms in the most grandiose inns. Though much of Nohr is barren, there are still a few salvageable acres of pasture for livestock and crops around the country.

“Katerina was looking into why our land has dried up so quickly,” the king mentions. “Neither our mages nor our scholars can figure out why it happened. It’s only certain Dragon Veins that poison our land, too. She mentioned to me she was close to figuring it out. It’s why she set off that night, to test her hypothesis.” 

He pauses. “But she never came back.” 

“She was a good woman until the end,” Arete gently offers. “Even in my remote village in the mountains, the queen was highly praised. They’d call her an angel.” 

Garon hums, staring out the window of the carriage as it passes through the first gate of Windmire. Outside lays only farms. The soil is still fertile here and so the land is used to go crops specifically for the rest of the city. Katerina’s work; one of the few Dragon Veins underground that was restored. The second gate of Windmire is taller, more like a wall, really. It’s the only way in, unless one is brave enough to traverse the backside along the mountains and risk wyverns, or the archers patrolling the rear of the wall. 

“For all intents and purposes,” Garon answers, “she was, and will be even in death.” 

Unlike the castles Gyges and Shirasagi, Krakenburg is built into the very earth, nearly subterranean. Nohr doesn’t get heavy rain, and even if it does, the castle has an aqueduct system to filter water out as to prevent flooding. It’s difficult to invade too, having so many passageways and being built almost entirely underground, save for a few towers and other edifices. Once, Katerina told her some corridors were constructed specifically to be dismantled on enemies attempting to infiltrate. 

It’s the safest of the three mighty castles, though also the bleakest with few gardens and natural light. 

Being currently daytime, the city square is bustling with people. Vendors display their open carts of wares and children play in the street with their dogs or chase a stray chicken. Everyone stills however for the army escorting Garon back to the castle. The citizens bow before returning to their daily routines. Off in the corner stands the guillotine. The detached blade is resting down below, being cleaned by two men. A woman washes off dried blood with a bucket from the elevated wooden platform. 

Public execution is common in Nohr, since ancient times. Arete hopes she won’t have to see one during her new life here. 

Garon dismounts from the carriage first, holding out his hand for Arete to take. She does, and keeps Azura pressed to her chest with her free arm. Alexander is helped out of the carriage by a nanny, and the infantry guide them into the castle. 

She can imagine, had Nohr been blessed with lush land, the castle would be overridden with vines and moss, flowers blooming in every patch of green. Once upon a time, it had been so, when she was a child. But even then, she remembers her father telling her the ground was mysteriously drying up, and so they needed to help their western neighbor with food. Valla had always been blessed with a surplus of everything, after all. Even more than Hoshido.

“Did her late majesty ever share her findings with you?” Arete asks, walking into the foyer of the castle. Corridors and various stairways going up or down are the primary decorations aside from the large chandelier hanging from the center of the room. Tapestries and rugs in purple or burgundy with gold accents also adorn the space. A fountain with still water and rose petals floating on the surface also rests in the middle of the room, just before the largest staircase leading upward. Pointed arched glass windows placed high along the walls allow for moderate sunlight to filter into the room.

“No. I’m not one for magic. My knowledge lies in the economy of our land, and our army. Katerina made sure everything else was up kept. Even now, I don’t know where her research is.” 

“I see.”

Little Alexander is led away to his room, and Garon offers a tour of the castle. He holds out his arm again to Arete, and she takes it gently. Azura remains napping the whole time. They navigate through corridors and hallways, into the kitchens and out the grand dining hall, to the infirmary wing and the royal chambers. The gardens they spend the most time in, before passing through other notable areas, and finally end their tour in the throne room. 

Of all the three castles, Krakenburg’s throne room rightfully boasts as being the biggest. It’s several yards wide, and nearly just as long. Five tiers of shallow steps and thick rounded pillars lead up to the dais that had once been covered in roses and vines. Only dried branches remain, some still with thorns. 

She looks behind her where the spacious red carpet drapes down the dark marble steps. Gold trimming lines the equally dark pillars, large chandeliers lighting every tier of steps from above. 

“It’s magnificent,” she says sincerely. 

“Yes. It used to be filled with parties and all such things, but I think we’ll be having less of those. Katerina’s death leaves a lot of work to be done. Only the most essential celebrations will be held here, now.” 

She doesn’t comment on it, and instead says good bye to Garon as a Great Knight guides her to her quarters. Over her shoulder, she catches the king staring at the empty throne next to his, hands clutched behind his back. 

“You are the performer we were told about?” the knight asks as they walk alone in the corridors. 

“I am. My name is Arete. Do you happen to know when I’ll be starting?”

“Usually the king entertains other nobles that live here, or visit, during dinners. Today there will be no such thing, but perhaps at the end of the week.”

The knight takes her to a large door where two guards are stationed. “Since the queen’s passing,” the knight informs, “we’ve had more security within the castle. For whatever reason, King Garon has requested armed guards at your door. It has some of the castle staff rightfully curious.” 

“I’m only here to perform.”

“I never said you weren’t.” The knight unlocks the door, then hands Arete the key. “Maids are assigned to every room in this castle. You’ll have three, plus a nanny for your daughter. Should you not wish to dine down at the hall, they can bring you breakfast, lunch, and supper. Though I’d advise against not attending the first few days. It’d be rude to King Garon’s generosity.” 

She hadn’t planned on not going, anyhow. “I will do that, thank you.” 

“Yes, of course.” The knight instructs the guards to keep a watchful eye until their shift ends, and to record all visitors. 

Before he leaves, Arete asks, “Might I have your name, sir? I’d like to give my thanks for escorting me all the way up here.” 

He turns around, and answers, “Gunter.” 

“Thank you, Sir Gunter.” 

“My pleasure. Take care, Miss Arete. And welcome to Nohr.”

  
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After a month, she still hasn’t been told when she’ll be performing. Even at dinners she shares with Garon, he hasn’t brought it up. Only once he mentioned something about a spring festival, but said nothing else otherwise. 

When she was an invited guest as a queen, she had no inclination to explore the castle. But as a performer, one who has nothing else to do for the time being, she now takes daily strolls around different parts of the castle. Half the time she brings Azura with her, not trusting the concubines and their suspicious stares. 

She finds that the affairs are a lot more numerous than Katerina had admitted. Never before has Arete seen so many elegantly dressed women roaming around the castle. Some have swollen bellies, and others carry around children. She knows a few were once mere harlots, but some she recognizes as lesser noblewomen. Others she doesn’t know who they were before, but she can only assume some merchants or commoners, perhaps maids or healers.

Though it’s nothing anyone should be proud of, she can at least say Garon somewhat takes responsibility for his actions. Other men of the aristocracy would never dare to bring their mistresses into their homes and clothe them as anything higher than their station. But being king has its positives, she supposes. Nobody would openly oppose Garon and his lifestyle, should they wish to keep their health. Or their head.

But, all of this isn’t any of her business. She’s savvy enough to not pry, lest her fate end up like Katerina’s. 

One day, she finds little Alexander nestled along a nook of an arched window. He’s curled up against the cushions there, reading a book almost half his size. Garon wasn’t jesting when he said his son needs to begin grooming for his birthright. 

“Good day, Prince Alexander,” she greets warmly. 

He jolts, blinking up at her. “Oh, h-hello, Miss Arete.” 

“May I join you?” 

“Um, y-yes.” 

She sits opposite of him along the nook. Azura makes a small sound as Arete takes her out of the sling, and sets her on her lap. Alexander eyes the child curiously, but says nothing. 

“What are you reading?” she asks. 

“ _A History of Nohr_. My tutor gave it to me. She said I need to read a section every day, as she’ll quiz me when I go to my lessons.” 

“Find anything interesting?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. But the pictures in here make me wish our land was green again. Mother was trying to figure it out, but…” 

Alexander goes quiet, staring off at nothing again. He then hides his face behind the book. “I’m sorry if I’m bothering you, Miss Arete. I’ll get back to reading.” 

Bothering? She’s the one who asked to sit with him. “You’re not a bother, young prince.”

“Oh. Okay.” He peeks from over his book, eyeing Azura again. “What’s her name?” 

“This wonderful little girl is named Azura,” replies Arete with a smile. “My pride and joy, one of the few I have left. She’s 2 years old now.” 

“Did Father bring you here because…,” then he shakes his head quickly, cheeks flushing, “no, never mind. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright, your highness. I understand why you’d ask. And no, she isn’t your half-sister. Her father died about a year after she was born.” 

“…He did?” 

Arete nods. “Was trying to protect our village, but the fiends killed him and some other people. I was the only one to escape. Maybe a few others. I don’t know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry….” 

“Not your fault. But thank you for that anyway.” 

He nods once before hiding away again behind his book. Arete watches him read, though his eyes never move from the page. She wonders if it’s too difficult for him. History books are usually written with scholars in mind, and adult nobles. Though she doesn’t doubt Alexander will become a great man in the future, he’s still only a child. Garon should’ve started him off with piano lessons, or art, to gently ease him into academia. 

But she has no pull in this castle, not anymore, and so it’d be of little use to bring it up. Still…

“Prince Alexander,” she begins, “if I may, I’d like to read to you.”

“Why would you want to?” he mumbles. “I can read well. And Father says I have nice handwriting. I-I can do it by myself.” 

“Oh I don’t doubt that. But maybe hearing it in somebody else’s voice will help you learn faster, yes? We can give it a try, and if you don’t like it, then I won’t bother you again.” 

“You’re not a bother, Miss Arete.” He looks from over his book, staring at her with big, wine-colored eyes. Deep enough in color to feign being brown away from the light, like Katerina’s. Alexander glances down at the pages again, his fingers teasing the spine of the book. “Okay, you can read it to me,” and he hands her the large book hesitantly, “if you want.” 

She smiles gently, setting it against her knees. Azura reaches out to the pages. “No no, dear. We have to help the young prince with his lessons. You listen too, okay?” Azura only gives a gentle hum, still trying to reach out to the printed illustrations. 

“Alright, alright. You may touch it. Now then,” she adjusts the book so it stands at an angle against her knee, and holds the sides with her hands, “where did you last leave off, Prince Alexander?” 

“…Um, somewhere in the first chapter.” 

Poor boy is too ashamed to admit he most likely hasn’t read anything all morning. She doesn’t blame him. The text is rather small with archaic words sprinkled in here and there. “How about we begin again, from the first line? It doesn’t hurt to refresh your memory.” 

“Okay.” 

“Now,” Arete clears her throat, and Alexander sits upright, “let us begin, your highness.” 

“You don’t have to keep calling me that,” he starts quietly. “Just ‘Xander’, is fine. It’s what…,” it’s what Katerina used to call him, “…it’s okay, I promise. You won’t get in trouble.” 

She smiles at him again, and nods. “Very well, Xander. And you may call me simply ‘Arete’, if you’d like. Are you ready to begin?” 

He nods, hands fisted in his lap. And finally, he returns the smile. Slight, but evident, and almost as warm as the shine on his short, golden curls. “I am, Miss—oh, yes I’m ready, Arete.” 

“Then let us dive into the world of history, little Xander.” 

Arete sits up straight, and starts to read. “‘Chapter One: The Dragon Gods. At the beginning, there was nothing, save for the dragons of old. So powerful were they, that their breath birthed life onto the land, their tears flowing into rivers and lakes. There were many dragon gods then of various sizes, but there was one who was so large, it was as long as a mountain. And because it was so big, it decided to split itself in two—’ oh, two?” 

It should’ve said three. Everyone across the land knows— _knew_ , that the primordial dragon of old had split itself into three smaller dragons. Just another proof that Anankos really had erased his history and that of Valla’s from the world. 

“Arete? Are you okay?” Xander asks. 

She blinks, takes a breath, and offers a reassuring smile. “Yes, of course. Sorry, let us continue.” She clears her throat again. “‘And because it was so big, it decided to split itself in two. These two dragons became the largest of its kind, and thus reigned over the land, east and west.’” Arete leans over the book, and asks, “Xander, might you remember who these dragons were?” 

He pouts, looking down at his lap and squeezing his eyes shut. Then he looks up at her, eyes wide as if a flame has been lit to a candle in his head. “The Dusk Dragon, and the Dawn Dragon.” 

“Correct. Do you know why they were called as such?”

“Because the first dragon split itself so it could be awake at all times of the day. And each dragon was more powerful at those times. The Dusk Dragon, he created the sunset with his breath, and the Dawn Dragon, she called the sun with her roar.” 

“Very good, Xander,” she compliments. “You’re quite the student. Why, I’m proud already. There isn’t a single doubt in my mind you’ll be smarter than all the scholars in the castle someday.” 

It’s his innocent beaming face that makes living in such a hostile place worth it. 

_My dearest friend, I’ll look after your boy for as long as I am able. He’s all that’s left of you, and I’ll help in any way I can to ensure that he lives to see old age. Please watch over us, Katerina._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'know, I seriously wish we would've gotten at least some portrait art of both Katerina and Ikona. I'll have to look for fan designs of them. Let's see if I can find a few somewhere. If I do, I'll post the link in my notes.
> 
> The continent in which both Nohr and Hoshido rest is never given a name at any point. Or history. As I've said before, a good portion of this story I'm taking creative liberties to flesh it out and make it more engaging. World building is my favorite aspect of fiction writing (and FE14 severely lacks depth there), so I'm having fun with this.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	9. IX

When all the snow has melted, nourishing the land anew, Arete is finally assigned to entertain for the Nohrian royal court. All the faces are familiar, but none react in regards to her.

It’s before dinner that she does her routine. With Xander sitting in his lap, Garon watches from the throne as Arete dances and sings in the centermost tier below. The other nobles stare in awe as she performs without a misstep. The king had loved her debut song so much, he had his musicians practice it so she may dazzle everyone else. It’s one of the reasons Garon had kept pushing back her debut to the castle. 

All around her is applause when she finishes, some tears when Garon mentions it was done in honor of Katerina, who loved the performance since the first time she heard it. Then he invites Arete as an honored guest to the dining table in the hall adjacent. 

She’s seated to his left at the long table next to Xander’s seat. To the king’s right is perched Iago, his tactician and one of the advisors. He’s another man Arete has never liked, if only because his visage reminds her of a snake. Or a rat. But she supposes comparing him so is an insult to both animals everywhere. 

Iago is a tall lanky man with long black hair so shiny, it almost looks coated in oil. His face is angular and pointed, almost sharp enough to slice through flesh. He doesn’t smile much; only when telling some joke, kissing Garon’s feet, or trying to flatter the other nobles. Katerina had never liked him either, mainly for some of his cruel and inhumane suggestions when it comes to punishments for petty crimes. She had even recommended that Garon rethink Iago’s place at his side. 

But for whatever reason, Iago remains. 

Arete ignores his constant leering, and instead speaks with aristocrats nearby who ask her questions. They tell her of their own stories, mostly boasting about their lavish lifestyles, and how it’s unfortunate she was born poor. 

“Too beautiful and talented to be a commoner,” one woman says. “It’s a real shame.” 

She wants to read that as mangled sincerity to save her own patience. “Thank you. But I make do with what the gods have given me.” 

“I’ll say,” Iago finally speaks up. “It’s curious how a mere performer is so well-spoken. One who can adequately read and write too, considering you’re helping Prince Xander with his studies.” 

Arete remains silent, focusing on her meals. Garon looks to his son and asks, “Has Miss Arete been teaching you?” 

“Yes, Father,” he replies meekly. “She reads to me first, and then has me read over passages again. She doesn’t shout at me when I get something wrong like my real tutor. She’s nice.” 

“I see.” Garon takes a swig of wine, and says, “Are you learning with this method?” 

Xander nods. “My tutor thinks I can start on other subjects now, like arithmetic.” 

The king sits back in his seat, silent for a moment. Other nobles listen intently, or feign small conversation amongst each other. Iago, however, speaks up. “Sire, don’t you find it just the tiniest bit odd that she’s so well-versed in, well, many things, apparently? She even knew the proper way to display silverware when a servant got it wrong.” 

Damn that worm and his meddling. 

“Gambino thought it fit to teach me,” she lies. “I was his new star performer, and if I was to interact with the upper classes, I needed to learn the manners and behaviors. How would he look if his staff acted like barbarians when graced with the presence of nobility? Especially the king of Nohr? Plus, I grew up as a mage to protect my village, and so I can’t become one if I don’t know how to read or write.” 

She takes a dainty sip from her wine glass. “I would think somebody who calls himself a royal tactician would have already presumed such a possibility.” 

Iago grits his teeth, though he pauses before saying anything. “And exactly which village was it that you came from again?” 

“A mountain one at the edge of Nohr. Poor place for it, as it had always been too precariously close to the canyon there.” 

“So if I were to visit this village, would I actually find it?” 

“No. Blood-thirsty bandits razed it to the ground, and most everyone there perished. Those who fled, I’m sure either died looking for a new home, or are spread out far and wide.” 

Iago’s lips curl into a smile. “And so then there would be debris and ashes, as well as corpses there too, correct?” 

“Unlikely for several reasons.” Arete cuts more of her steak, taking a few bites before adding, “One, the wind and rainfall is harsh, and would’ve scattered the ashes by now. Two, thanks to the rain, landslides would’ve buried the corpses or slid them over the edge of the canyon. Three, rockslides are also common, and any debris left would’ve tumbled away to nothingness along with the bodies. Four, the Dragon Veins eat up all organic life in the ground, and if not the natural elements to decay the bodies and burned wood, the Veins would’ve done so already.” 

She props her elbows on the table, fingers threaded together as she rests her chin atop them. Arete gives him a grin equally as smug as his. “And five, I doubt you’ll survive the journey, all things considered. If you do perish trying to save face, it would be an honor to take up the great Iago’s mantle as tactician. But I’m only a mere performer—a commoner—and know nothing at the end of the day.” 

A few of the nobles snicker, and even Garon smiles just the slightest bit, his attention ever focused on her. Iago gives a growl, and starts, “Sire, such insolence from a lowly—” 

“I’m not going to waste resources to go on such an expedition, Iago,” Garon replies. “The last one you went on with Katerina, you wouldn’t stop complaining about the bugs and the weather. I doubt you’ll survive even harsher conditions.” 

“He went on an expedition with the late queen?” Arete asks, grin falling. 

Garon nods. “Yes. Iago went with her to learn more about the Dragon Veins. We had gotten word from a concubine that her home village was drying up, and so Katerina went to investigate. But it was an ambush, one Iago failed to foresee. Then again, I didn’t think anything of it, either.” 

“I did try my best to keep the late queen safe,” Iago says, words dripping with stale sympathy, “but alas, I don’t have eyes around my head. Nobody saw the sniper shoot the arrow at her wyvern, piercing its wings. Then another came, and another, until the beast was a pincushion. It tumbled over the canyon and fell with Katerina still on its back.” 

The other nobles go quiet, either finishing their meals, or staring solemnly at nothing. Xander himself stares at the stitching of the ruby tablecloth. Iago adds, “We spent a whole week looking for her, but only found her dead wyvern, pierced through the abdomen along a sharp rock spire. No mangled body of hers, dead or alive. Too many soldiers kept slipping into the bottomless pit the longer we looked. And so, we returned home with heavy hearts.” 

Garon’s fingers tighten over the basin of his glass. “She died fighting for the good of Nohr. Forever shall she be remembered as an invaluable treasure of the country. A heroine for the history books.” 

Around the table, other nobles nod in agreement or add compliments to how good of a woman Katerina was. Xander remains silent, though his eyes glisten with tears, lower lip quivering. 

“Perhaps we ought to speak of something else,” Arete suggests. “Your detailed description is upsetting the young prince. Have some more tact, Iago. Or do you find humor in hurting the children of your king?” 

Wide eyed, he sputters, “I would never—how dare you even suggest—” 

“Enough of this.” Garon motions for a nanny to come and take Xander away. But he struggles in her grasp, sitting back in his seat, shifting the slightest bit closer to Arete. “Xander, it’s best if you went with Madeline. You can eat your desserts in your room.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I wanna stay here. I can’t—I need to face Mother’s death, because I can’t be strong if I don’t. A-And,” he sobs, “she would want me to… to…” He begins to weep softly. Whether by mistake or instinct, he leans against Arete’s arm, covering his face. “I’m sorry, Father. I’m sorry, I’ll…” 

Garon stares at his son for a silent moment, then looks up to Arete. “Please take him to his room. You’ll keep him company for the rest of the night; it’s clear he has an inclination toward you, for whatever reason. You may finish dining up there if you wish.” He motions to the nearest butler. “I’ll have them take your food.” 

“Yes of course, your majesty.” Arete stands and bows to everyone, excusing herself. Xander takes her hand when offered it, almost desperately. 

Iago’s stare burns into her back, but she pays it no mind. 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Since that night, she’s gotten strange looks from the concubines. Even more from Iago, but he’s left her alone and gone onto his regular post as the king’s shadow, perhaps not wanting to overstep and anger his lord. 

Thankfully, all attention is steered away from her when another bastard child is born. She cares little to offer her congratulations. It’s only when she’s asked to perform as entertainment does she involve herself. 

Eleanora is one of Garon’s more favored mistresses. Adorning velvet fabric in her gown and pearls in her hair, she’s definitely one of the more lavishly dressed women at the celebratory dinner. In her arms is her new son, Leonardo. He’s a tiny thing compared to Xander, the latter peeking over from behind Garon’s side at his new half-brother.

“Would you be so kind as to sing and dance for us?” Eleanora asks, twirling her wine in its glass. “I’m sure it’d do my little Leo some good to be exposed to the arts early.” 

“If that’s what his majesty would like,” Arete looks over to Garon, who nods, “then of course.” 

She doubts her performance will have any effect on the child as he grows. But the sooner she can finish, the sooner she can leave. Garon watches with interest while Eleanora shuffles away from one of the other bastard children with lilac hair—Camilla, she’s sure is the girl’s name—trying to also take a peek at the infant. Her mother Isabella calls her over with a beckoning hand, and she scurries back to her side. 

After dinner, Arete returns to her room and prepares for bed. A knock on the door has her gripping the pendant in her hand. Cautiously, she calls, “Yes, who is it?” 

“Eleanora, dear. Might I have a word?” 

“I’m going to sleep, miss.” 

“Oh this won’t take long.” 

Hesitantly, Arete opens the door. “Can I come in? Doesn’t do to chat out in the hall.” Eleanora is dressed in her night robes, cloths just as elaborate as her formal attire. Her light brown curls are relaxed over her back instead of being pinned up in intricate braids like earlier. “I just wanted to thank you for that lovely performance. I’m sure my Leo will come to appreciate it once he grows.” 

Arete steps aside as the woman saunters into the small room. She looks over to where Azura is sleeping in her crib, and Arete stands in front of it, draping a hand over the wooden bar. 

“What a beautiful little girl,” Eleanora says with the tiniest lace of disinterest. 

“Thank you.” 

“Is her father around?” 

“No. He passed away some time ago. She’ll never get to know him, but I’m all she’ll need.” 

“Admirable.” Eleanora strolls around the room, observing what little possessions Arete owns in furnishings. “I do hope you’ll be performing for my son’s birthdays to come.” 

“If the king wishes to employ me for that long, then I don’t see why not.” 

“Well it’s good to hear that.” The woman turns to face her. “And even doubly pleasing to know you’re so sure you’ll be a performer for the rest of your life.” 

Or, alternatively: ‘You’re not planning on seducing his royal majesty at any point in time and get in my way of the crown.’ 

“Yes, I do enjoy what I do,” Arete assures. “One day I hope my daughter will share my passions.” 

Eleanora smiles. “A family business, hmm? Maybe my son will require her services when he needs to study. The diviners say he’s going to be brilliant; the most brilliant man in all of Nohr. I’ll make sure of it.” 

“I wouldn’t know how my daughter could help with that.” 

“Well, even geniuses need a little pleasurable leisure now and again.” 

Arete steels her tongue. “I’m afraid I don’t follow,” she lies. 

“Oh, my dear,” Eleanora’s sickening sweet tone rots on her teeth, “your child won’t make much of herself if she stays here all her life. But I’ll do you a favor, and make it so that she’s paid well enough for all of her services, vocal or otherwise.” 

“If that’s all you have to say,” Arete starts, walking toward the door, “then it’s about time you left. Surely somebody needs to be looking after your boy. I hear children in this castle don’t last long if left unsupervised.” 

Eleanora turns her nose up and walks out of the room. “Very well. I’ll take my leave. Nice having this little chat. Good night.” 

She doesn’t bother replying, and locks the door instead. 

Her thinly veiled and slightly presumptuous threat isn’t entirely untrue, Arete discovers later. A month after Leonardo’s birth, another of the concubines is killed in the dead of night. Strangled by one of the tassels from her curtains. A tragedy doubled, as she was still pregnant when she passed. Garon makes no sign of being disturbed after the body is disposed of, but more infantry patrol the corridors the following day. 

_And so, it starts. I best be on my toes at all times now._

Xander grows blatantly attached to her in the coming weeks. So much that Garon has noticed, and thus promotes her to being his extra tutor, along with still being a performer when needed. The boy is a quick study, and his primary instructor curtly mentions how much easier things come to him now. 

But Arete pretends to only know of reading and writing. Other things she feigns ignorance in, such as piano, numbers, or drawing. No need to rouse Iago’s suspicions so he can hiss in Garon’s ear she isn’t to be trusted. 

For months afterward, she alternates between performing, teaching Xander when he needs extra help, and raising Azura. She’s grown bigger now at 2, having long abandoned the need for breastmilk. Arete learns from the kinder cooks and servants how to prepare food that Azura can eat without choking. 

Cooking was never, and will never be, Arete’s strong suit. Even in childhood, when the Gyges chefs would let her and Karuna into the kitchen to make pastries, hers always ended up burnt. Karuna was much more successful, the only flaws in hers being sloppy finishing work, and either being too salty or too sweet.

The whispers from concubines, and rumors of Garon’s growing interest in her, force her to cook meals decent enough for both herself, and Azura. Eventually, she brings up with Garon about cooking Xander’s meals, too. 

“Why?” he asks on their stroll in one of the gardens. 

“Forgive me if I speak out of line,” she starts, “but seeing him, and knowing how much he misses his mother—that a concubine was responsible for her demise, I just fear for his own safety, is all. And with the recent death of Moira, well, my anxiety only grows.”

“You are truly frightened by my mistresses?” 

“I know it’s silly,” Arete admits, “but I admired the queen. She was the kind of woman I hoped to become someday. I’ve only met her that first time at the opera house, and truly got to know her spirit when we went about the city. But it was enough to inspire me. She was such a joy, and Prince Xander looks so much like her. In a way, I feel obligated to watch over him to repay her kindness.” 

When he doesn’t respond, Arete adds, “I understand if it’s an odd request, and rightfully denied. But the offer will be on the table unless you decide to revoke my work here.” 

Garon says nothing still. He plucks one of the blue roses from its bush, picking away the thorns of the stem. They pierce at his gauntlet in vain as he goes along. “Xander has become fond of you. He’s somewhat less bashful, and not as dreary since his mother’s passing.”

Offering her the trimmed rose, Garon continues, “In a short time, you’ve done more than just sing the nobles to contentment. Such a woman is rare.” 

“You flatter me, your majesty.” Arete takes the rose, sniffing it. “But thank you.” 

He hums. “It’s rightfully earned. Miss Arete, I’d like to offer yet another proposal.” 

“From a mere opera singer, to your royal performer, and then also part-time tutor of the crown prince.” She smiles. “Any more and I might think you’re spoiling me, sire.”

“Working all hours of the day is what you call being spoiled?” he says lightly, a hint of a smile at the edge of his lips. 

“It gives me something to do. I’ve always found diligence to be one of my favorite virtues.” 

“Then what I’m about to propose should be exemplary for your work ethic.” He takes her hand, giving a gentle kiss to the top of it. “Miss Arete, for the good of this kingdom, and my son, I would like to take you as my new queen.” 

Her eyes blow wide, mouth open in a failed gasp. “Your… Your queen?” 

“Indeed. You can never replace Katerina,” not that Arete would ever want to, “and it will take some time for the citizens to warm up to you. But your grace and kindness, yet stubborn resolution and cutting wit, is exactly what I’ve been looking for.” 

“King Garon, I… I don’t know what to say.” 

“An answer of ‘yes’ would be preferable.” 

It’s too convenient. She doesn’t doubt Garon’s good intentions, but fate’s? She’s been a commoner hardly two years. And already she’s being offered the highest position in the land. The concubines would definitely scheme against her. ‘How dare she’, they’d think. ‘She didn’t have to kiss at the king’s heels, or pleasure him in bed night after night.’ 

Her only child isn’t even his, and so she can’t claim bloodline as insurance for the riches. Gods only know what they had to do. All she did was be herself, not cause trouble, and treat Xander as a mother would.

Oh, perhaps that’s why. 

“Miss Arete,” Garon tries again, “I’d like to propose marriage. Do you accept to being my new wife?” 

She could do good for Nohr, finish what Katerina started. Iago would need to be watched too, especially after she learned he went with the late queen on her final expedition. It may not be an ideal country in its current state, but what’s left of it is worth saving. She’ll help restore the nation to its former glory, and maybe little Xander will finally see the land as it was: green and prosperous, with the sun smiling down on it. 

“King Garon,” Arete begins, bowing, “it’d be the highest honor to rule beside you. I accept.” 

And at last, he smiles fully, meeting her eyes. “Excellent.” 

The announcement of their marriage later that day has Iago gaping like a fish. 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Invitations are sent two months in advance, dating the wedding ceremony sometime in early September. The weather is still fair enough that the invitees will be able to travel the distance and stay for a couple of days without worrying about the trek back home. 

Her door is guarded at all times by many skilled soldiers, and only the most trusted castle staff are allowed in. She doesn’t interact with the concubines out of safety, but she’s sure to them it reads more as a new air of superiority. The glares they cast her in the hallways and at dinners can cut through stone. Eleanora’s own stare is frigid enough to cause frostbite. 

People from every rung of nobility and from all across the continent are invited. It isn’t until the archduchess of Izumo arrives does the homesickness begin to prick at Arete’s heart. 

“King Garon, how lovely it is to see you!” the woman greets, bowing. Her snowy hair drapes over her shoulders as she does. “I take it this is _the_ most fortunate lady of the event?” 

“Yes.” He takes Arete by the hand, lifting it in his as he brings her foreword. “Arete, the future queen of Nohr.” 

“Well it’s lovely to meet you! Perhaps you’ve heard of me, perhaps not. But I’m Yukiko, the archduchess of Izumo. Just south of Hoshido, if you’ve got a map around.” 

“A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Lady Yukiko.” 

“The pleasure’s all mine!” 

Disappointment once again washes over Arete that another old friend fails to recognize her. Yukiko often invited her and Latham to attend the plentiful banquets and festivals in Izumo. There’s always something to celebrate in that country. 

Being that Izumo has historically been neutral to all international conflicts, its archduchy has been fortunate to have good leaders. Yukiko isn’t any different. Though she has the tendency to enjoy good food and drink more than others, she takes her role as archduchess very seriously, never tiring of keeping herself in the loop of the country’s affairs. It’s mainly the weight of her linage, Arete knows. For generations, Yukiko’s family has been blessed with divine foresight, and said to be directly descended from one of the last dragon gods to have a mortal form. 

How true that is, no one actually knows. But the noble house of Izumo keeps its people happy, and its country safe. Yukiko herself is a powerful _onmyoji_ , and Arete half-wishes the woman would duel against Iago just to see him squirm. 

“Likewise. I’ve heard your country is quite serene and beautiful.” 

“Oh it is! Really, you and Garon should take your honeymoon there, wink wink.” And she winks with an open-mouthed smile. “The food is stupendous, and our bathhouses—oh don’t even get me started. But you should go just to see the flowers, and our ancient tree!” 

“It does sound lovely. Can’t say I’ve ever had Izumian cuisine.” 

“Have you tried Hoshido’s? It’s quite similar, but we do have our own tasty surprises too.” 

“No,” she lies yet again, “my palette is restricted to just Nohrian, I’m afraid.” 

“Well that’s a damn shame!” Yukiko pats Garon on the arm. “You think real hard about where you and Miss Arete want to go for your honeymoon. And yes, I’m blatantly suggesting you visit Izumo.” 

Garon grunts. “Our travel will be put on hold. Arete wants to get to work after her coronation, so perhaps next spring we’ll visit. Or in a few years, even.” 

“Oh,” Yukiko sighs dramatically, “ _fine._ But I’ll be expecting you both!” 

“Yes, of course. How is your boy, by the way? Doing well, I hope.” 

“He is, thanks for asking. My precious Izana is finally old enough to travel, and I think it’d be good for his perspective. Hope that’s okay with the young Prince Xander.”

“My son needs to learn diplomacy, so yes. It’s actually ideal you brought Izana along.” 

“Fantastic! Well, I better go check on him, excuse me. Lovely meeting you, Miss Arete. Ta-Ta!” She wiggles her fingers in good bye, before gliding through the throne room to chat up other nobles. 

It isn’t until the Hoshidan royal family arrives that all the celebratory vigor finally leaves Arete. She’s introduced to Sumeragi, and the young Ryoma who was finally allowed to come now that he’s 6. 

“I’m afraid Ikona couldn’t make it,” Sumeragi apologizes. “She didn’t want to risk the pregnancy being so far along already.” 

“Pregnancy?” She certainly has missed so much since fleeing Valla. “This would be your third child, correct?” 

Sumeragi nods. “Ryoma is our eldest. Then there’s his sister, Hinoka. Just turned 4 last month, actually. She’s still a little young to understand, but Ryoma is looking forward to having another sibling.” The man looks to his son, smiling fondly. “Should he have a new brother, we’ve decided to name him ‘Takumi’.” 

“And if he ends up with a sister instead?” 

“‘Sakura’, perhaps.” 

Behind them in the distance, Ryoma instigates playful banter, challenging Xander to a wooden sword fight. Xander ignores him, walking away and looking over his shoulder as he does so. Ryoma chases him around the room as a result, and Xander weaves through the pillars in an attempt to lose him. The slightly older Izana, about 8, pulls them aside and shushes them. 

“Well, that’s our future,” Yukiko comments lightly, strolling up to them. She sets her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “Let’s hope they grow into their shoes sooner than later, yeah?” 

“They will,” Sumeragi says, “or at least Ryoma. I don’t know about Xander.” 

“Are you testing me in my own home?” Garon asks, though there’s no malice behind it. 

“Perhaps. He’s still quite shy though, in all seriousness.” 

“A nature he’ll grow out of by the time he takes the throne. That I can confidently assure.” 

The rest of the night bleeds into the next morning with music and dance, and the hustle of the wedding leaves little else for Arete to think about. It goes well enough. All the nobles are seated in the cathedral, the Nohrian gods immortalized in the magnificent stained glass windows from above. She’s lathered with attention from all sides, though the concubines’ words of congratulations are strained, their smiles taught like bowstrings. 

She dreads the anticipated wedding night with Garon. But like she feigns ignorance to academia, she feigns pleasure too when it happens. 

Her coronation is a day after the next, where all the people of Nohr come to see the crown placed atop her head. After the ceremony, the capital celebrates all around, and it’s one of the few times the evening is filled with citizens. 

The highlight of the whole thing is Iago being forced to address her as ‘your majesty’ in front of all the nobles. 

Morning comes the following day, casting a faint glow into the bedroom. After Garon leaves, Arete asks one of the maids to cut her hair. It had gotten quite long, up to her lower back. Her new husband looks at her curiously at breakfast, commenting, “You’ve decapitated so much of it.” 

“Decapitated is too strong of a word, my dear,” Arete laughs. The air in her lungs is a kind she hasn’t felt in a while. “This is a new chapter in my life, and I’d like to start it fresh. Plus, long hair is heavy.” 

“Then Sumeragi must have shoulders of steel to continue encouraging the growth of his mane,” Garon says. “Or is just an outright fool. He’s never going to win Yukiko’s annual hair competition, even if his locks reach his feet.” 

“I doubt anyone can beat her flowing white tresses of winter snow, yes.”

“You could have, though. When you dance, it trails behind you like water.”

Arete smiles. “I don’t think so, but thank you.” She sits down next to him as a butler brings her a fresh plate of food. Garon takes her hand and kisses the top of it, keeping her gaze. 

“Nohr will be fortunate to have you at the helm, my love.”

“I look forward to doing this country good, and I will give all my effort into restoring this nation.” She clasps her hand over his. “I promise.” 

_Karuna, I will most definitely find you. But until then, please stay alive for me, dearest sister._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are looking up for Arete. Hooray! Here is another point in the story where I'm sad that Garon wasn't given a better history. Apparently he was much more benevolent and admirable before the canon timeline of _Fates_ , but we never actually see that in-game. I'll try to remedy this issue a little bit here.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	10. X

In the subsequent first few months after her coronation, Arete finds that she has her work cut out for her. 

Whether Katerina never mentioned it due to pride or some other factor, Nohr is a lot worse off than Arete had known. Windmire is one of the few places with sustainable land, and even then, it’s not enough for everyone. The population is growing much faster than the farmland can produce crops and raise livestock to sustain everyone fairly. As a result, the price for all food, including water, is taxed. 

On top of the Dragon Veins mysteriously drying up many parts of the land, she can see why Nohr has much more poverty than both Valla and Hoshido combined. And having found no solution or made any new breakthroughs after a year or so of being its queen, the people are understandably frustrated. Doesn’t stop her from feeling frustrated at their frustration, though. 

“It’s not as if I’m sitting on my rear and eating berry delights all day,” she grumbles, after overhearing her maids gossip amongst each other. 

“Ah,” one begins, “don’t fret so much over it, your majesty. We know you’re trying your best.” 

“But if the late queen couldn’t figure it out,” a second says, “then there’s not much chance you can.” 

“Martha, don’t say that!” 

“I’m only being honest, Louise. You know what the folks say.” She looks over at Arete apologetically. “Everyone loved Lady Katerina. At times—not that this is _my_ opinion—but at times she loved the kingdom more than Lord Garon did. She was the one who left the castle in disguise to be amongst us commoners. She knew our plight better than any other noble, and did all she could to help.” 

“She had to stop, though.” Louise yanks the bedding off and places it among the other dirty laundry in the basket. “Iago told Lord Garon about it, and fearing for her safety, forbid her from going out amongst us again.” 

“That’s quite interesting,” Arete replies. “I never knew she did such things.” 

Actually, she knows well enough everything Katerina did for her country. In her old life, Garon himself had expressed his grievances a few times about the queen running off into the night. But Iago’s name continuously popping up everywhere Katerina is concerned… 

“How involved is Iago in governing matters?” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t know,” Martha says casually, wiping down the windows. “Us castle staff are kept out of things like that. We just cook and clean.” 

“I see.” 

The next council meeting, Arete offers up the suggestion to cut back on the food tax as to lessen the gap between the peasant and merchant class. Almost immediately she’s met with steadfast rejection. No surprise; it’s her first meeting without Garon there to act as a buffer. He’s off trying to negotiate with the Ice Tribe down south who have better fertile land, even during winter. Nohr’s worst season of the year.

That leaves her with Iago, who gleefully reminds her, “An interesting suggestion, your majesty. But we’ll wait for the king’s return. You are merely a consort, after all.” 

Arete narrows her eyes. “Excuse me?” 

“I don’t mean to offend,” though his curling smile proves otherwise, “but you must understand I have to carry out the king’s orders. We can wait for his return to discuss this gap issue.” 

“It shouldn’t need much contemplation, Iago. Every year it widens further. We need to come up with a solution before the weather gets bad. Or have you forgotten where you came from? A quick trip to the slums might jog your memory.” 

His lip twitches, and eyebrows furrow. “Yes, I do know your history,” Arete adds. “Garon told me: just a young lad from a swamp village, born into rags, and only became the royal tactician after years of studying magic from all around. Though, I wouldn’t put it past you to have used other persuasive methods.” 

“And what do you mean by that, your majesty?” 

“You tell me.” She stands, glaring at the elderly advisors. “But so be it. We’ll wait until Garon returns to continue discussing these matters. And I _will_ make it a point to let him know the nonchalance in which you all seem to give the poor.” 

She gets no responses back, only a few grumbles and glares over the shoulder. 

The night Garon returns, Arete brings up the topic with him. He’s in no mood to debate, and says they’ll look at the situation at a later time. She can’t get another word in before he falls asleep, snoring heavily beside her. 

Her suspicion that no, the topic won’t be discussed, comes to pass. Instead, the council speaks of more small uprisings, and that a higher tax needs to be implemented as a ‘warning’. She debates with them for a long aggressive while, resorting to bringing up the topic again herself. 

Garon watches both sides, ever observant. In the end, he decides force is more than enough to get people in line. “Taxes will rise during winter months, but be kept low during the other seasons. Is that not enough to satisfy both sides?” 

Arete doesn’t push, knowing he’d rather vent his frustrations about his unsuccessful trip down south. The Ice Tribe still refuses to become official Nohrian territory, and it’s a growing thorn in his side. She’ll just have to figure out a solution on her own, starting with solving the harvest problem. And so she buries herself in books the following week. 

“Would be much easier if I knew where Katerina kept all her notes,” she grumbles, setting aside yet another old tome from the royal archives. Nothing in any of the books says how or why the Dragon Veins are rotting the once fertile soil of the land. Only that they’re fabled to be the decaying physical bodies of the dragon gods that ascended. 

Between picking up where Katerina left off, raising Azura and Xander, and watching her back amongst the concubines, Arete has slept less than she ever did while as Valla’s queen. Garon spoiling her with lavish food and gifts lessens the strain a little. A part of her feels guilty receiving such things, knowing the country is crumbling from the bottom up. Even more so when Garon whisks her away to their vacation villa in Macarath for the winter. They take Xander and Azura with them, now 8 and 4. 

Palace Macarath she’s only heard of from Katerina. It’s called so after the town of the same name in southern Nohr, close to the Nestran border. Here winter is tame in comparison to their blistering summers. The town itself thrives mainly because of its gambling establishments, along with other entertainment houses. It’s also known for its medicine, being the only location in Nohrian history to have never been hit with a plague. 

“I still think we should be back home at the castle,” Arete says. “Not that I don’t appreciate being here, but there’s so much work to be done.” 

“And if you don’t take leisure time now and again,” Garon counters, rubbing a hand along her back soothingly, “you won’t be well-rested for the work awaiting when we do return.” 

“Yes, I suppose you do have a point.” 

Even so, spending the majority of winter at the villa seems unnecessary. She doesn’t trust Iago to keep things in order at the castle, but she’s also glad to be out of there. Two more concubines have died since she became queen. One a month after her coronation (poisoned), and another just last week (‘fell’ off the balcony). Their children had both been mysteriously strangled a night before each of their own ends too. 

It doesn’t take much guessing to know the real reason Garon suggested the trip. 

On a morning of gentle snowfall, she goes over to the villa’s library where Xander and Azura await her presence. Garon left right after breakfast to retrieve a large supply of medicinal herbs for the castle. Possibly to gamble too, or visit a madame’s establishment, not that she cares. She only became queen for Nohr, and his increasing inventory of mistresses is of but little importance to her goal. 

She finds the children sitting together on a couch, bundled up with blankets. On their shared laps is a large tome with colorful prints of Nohrian animals. Xander reads to Azura the words she still doesn’t understand, and she smiles up at him with large, golden eyes. 

“I take it you like animals, Xander?” Arete asks lightly. 

“Yes, Mother,” he says, smiling back. Though she can never replace Katerina, hearing Xander willingly call her that melts her heart. She just about turned into a puddle the very first time he had said it on his last birthday. Garon explained how quickly Xander had grown fond of her, and how it wasn’t a surprise he almost immediately accepted her as his new mother. “Azura likes looking at the birds.” 

“They’re pretty,” she mumbles, tracing the contours of the illustrations. 

“I think they’re pretty too.” Arete situates herself between them, draping the blankets over all their bodies. The children cuddle up to either one of her sides, looking down at the book. “Are they your favorite animals, Azura?” 

She nods. “The blue ones I like a lot.” 

“What about you, dear?” Arete combs her fingers through Xander’s hair. “What animal is your favorite?” 

“Um,” he looks away before carefully flipping several pages, “this one.” 

“A rabbit?” It’s quite adorable in print, rounded out like a fluffy white egg along a pale pink background. Some vague plants are drawn around it. “I never would have guessed.” 

“They’re soft,” he explains shyly, “and they’re warm to hold. I had one as a pet before, but one of Father’s ladies killed it on accident.” 

More like on purpose for a personal stew, but she doesn’t want to trouble him with the cruel thought. “Well now, we’ll just have to get you another one.” 

Xander looks up at her with wide eyes. “Really?” 

“I don’t see why not.” She smiles at him, then looks to Azura. “Perhaps you’d want a songbird too?” 

“Yes!” She nods eagerly. 

“Okay, I’ll ask your father about it. For now, we’ll go over some more animals, and then move on to plants. It’s important you’re well-read on what is or isn’t bad for you to eat in the wild. You never know when you might need it.” 

She spends a good part of the morning teaching them the flora and fauna of Nohr before moving onto writing exercises. When their music instructor escorts them away for lessons later, Arete is left in the library by her lonesome again. It’s not large compared to Krakenburg’s, but it’s enough that she’ll be busy their entire vacation scrutinizing every page of every book. 

Regrettably, there’s still no success by lunchtime. Sighing, she closes yet another old tome and stands to place it back on its shelf, nearly tripping over a bulging tile in the process. 

“How old is this place anyway?” she grumbles to herself, kicking at it. Having tripped over it, the thing is uselessly crooked now. The tile is gray like the rest of the floor, and slightly chipped in one corner, though that isn’t what catches Arete’s attention. 

A shallow hole beckons her to lift the tile. Underneath is a bound book with a buckle seal. Some of the pages stick out oddly from the sides. Arete dusts it off before opening it, careful not to let the loose leaves slip out. 

“This is Katerina’s handwriting….” 

Within the pages are notes and observations filled to the margins about Nohrian agriculture and geography. In red ink, Katerina had written the locations where the Dragon Veins dried up the land as well as some experiments she had done to test the toxicity of the soil. 

Flipping through the other pages, Arete gives a quick glance at the contents of each sheet. Katerina noted too that dragonstones within the Veins were no longer small enough to be held in one’s hand:   
  


> _And so I tried to lift up some stones from the Vein. But even the blessed dragon blood within me couldn’t prepare for the strain on my body when a massive boulder of the gem rose instead! It exhausted me to no end trying to place it back in the ground. This isn’t right; they’re never this big. It’s almost like the Veins are being clogged, forcing too much energy into the land and overwhelming the slow-growing organic life. That might be why everything is dying._

  
Her writing stops here. The rest of the page is just scribbled with more notes and disorganized theories. She had come a long way, judging by the page count. Her death is even more tragic now, coming so close to figuring out the ailment of the earth. While Arete does have suspicions Anankos is somehow involved in this, she doesn’t have much to go on in proving so at the moment. Katerina wouldn’t have considered that angle either, even before the curse. Back then nobody would have, honestly.

“Lady Arete,” a maid says, opening the door and knocking on its side, “it’s time for lunch. The little prince and princess are waiting for you.” 

“Oh, y-yes, I’ll be right there. Thank you.” 

She waits until the maid leaves to adjust the tile back in its spot. Whether through divine intervention or sheer luck, she’s found Katerina’s missing notes. They don’t appear to be complete, but they’ll be enough for Arete to build off of. 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Arete keeps the notebook locked away in her vanity. The maids aren’t allowed to look through anything in the bedrooms, only clean the surface of the villa unless otherwise instructed. Still, Katerina hid this for a reason, and Arete isn’t about to give away the secrets of the dearly departed. 

She doesn’t even tell Garon. 

Having read through all the books in the villa’s library, Arete concedes to relax with the children instead of tormenting herself with paper cuts. The winter vacation rolls along smoothly with her new family going out now and again to watch plays or dine at the finest establishments. Sometimes she visits the nearby meadow, supervising Xander and Azura as they craft snowmen and other disfigured forms. Her dear children are bundled up to the top of their heads in thick winter clothes lined with fur. Their noses are cold, but their cheeks pink and laughter warm. 

It isn’t until she returns to Krakenburg at the eve of spring that she resumes studying Katerina’s notes. Or at least, she tries to. Being gone for almost the entirety of winter leaves her and Garon with a lot more work, mainly listening to the grievances of the citizens in the throne room. 

Most of them humbly complain about the taxes during winter. Iago opens his mouth to say something scathing, no doubt, so Arete cuts him off and informs, “It’s difficult to grow food during winter, even within Windmire. Our farmers don’t make as much then, which is why the price for everything rose.” 

“Yes, I understand your majesty,” the man says, “but winter makes it difficult for us to work anywhere. Buildings are snowed in, or people get sick and then have to spend their coin on medicine. The higher taxes on food during the worst time of the year for jobs just seems…” 

Garon grunts. “We implemented the tax so the farmers and merchants don’t try to swindle people like you. Or would you rather they charge you two of your limbs for bread and meat without our knowledge?” 

“No, your majesty….” 

“Then you understand why we made this law ourselves. You’ll get used to it in due time.” He waves for a soldier to escort the man out. “Arete,” Garon places a gentle hand on her own, “how comes the research?”

“Research?” Iago questions, dragging his eyes to her. “What research?” 

“It’s somewhat better,” she replies, pointedly ignoring him and addressing Garon instead. “I had wanted to continue it when we got back, but matters of the kingdom haven’t given me ample time to do so.” 

“How far have you gotten?” 

“Well I found something interesting, though I’d rather discuss it later.” 

“Another time then. Why don’t you go and continue where you left off? I’ll handle the remaining citizens on my own.”

“Only if you’re sure.” 

He nods, patting her hand between both of his. “Yes, don’t worry.” 

She neither misses the calculating stare Iago gives her as she leaves the throne room, nor the whisper he gives to Garon, never taking his beady eyes off of her. 

_No doubt trying to rouse suspicion of me. But I’ll get rid of him myself one day. Just need to find a new tactician first._  

Along the way to the library, she runs into one of the concubine’s children, Camilla. The child bumps into her leg and falls over, dropping a broach she held in her hand. It’s a sapphire carved to look like a rose, with pearl accents dotted along the edges. Eleanora had worn it the evening of Leonardo’s first birthday dinner. 

“Where did you get this?” Arete asks, examining it underneath the chandelier’s candlelight.

“Um,” Camilla stands up and dusts herself off. Her knees are scrapped and stockings ripped from where she fell, “I found it.” She doesn’t look up at Arete, only down at her shoes. 

“You did.” 

“Yes.” 

Camilla sniffs, glancing at her hands where she scrapped them too. The skin is raw, red, and threatening to bleed. Arete pockets the broach and says, “Come. Let’s get you cleaned up.” 

“But—” 

“If you don’t, it’ll get infected,” she says gently, placing a hand on Camilla’s back. “You don’t want that, do you?” 

“No.” 

She doesn’t protest further, and allows herself to be escorted to the infirmary wing. For whatever reason, Camilla never stops glancing at each and every corner or hallway over her shoulder. Maybe in fear Eleanora will chase her? 

Arete keeps her company as a nurse cleans the scrapes and bandages them. Camilla rocks her feet back and forth along the bed, sitting there even after the nurse has left. “Thank you,” she mumbles, poking at her bandages. “Are you going to tell on me, Lady Arete?” 

“If you tell me why you were running with this, I won’t.” 

“…You promise?” 

“I promise.” 

Camilla glances up at her through lilac bangs. “My mother said I had to. Otherwise, I won’t get dessert tonight. And they’re going to serve berry tarts….” 

Arete doesn’t pry. She wants nothing to do with the infernal war the concubines have against each other. Plus, Eleanora only brought this upon herself. “Well, it isn’t good to steal. Bad karma.” 

“Karma? What’s that?” 

“It’s, ah,” right, can’t explain anything about Valla. She feels a headache coming on, and that’s the only warning she needs, “well, have you heard the phrase, ‘what goes around, comes around’ by chance?” 

She shakes her head. 

“It means if you do something bad to somebody, something bad will happen to you in the future. You don’t want that, do you?” Camilla stares down at her lap, picking at the lace ribbon on her dress. “But, if you do something good, something good will happen to you in the future in return.” That’s not quite how karma works, but she’s not going risk explaining it in the most accurate manner.

“Is that true?”

“I still believe it is, yes.” Frankly, it isn’t always true, and she’s lived too long to continuously keep track of being paid her dues for good or bad deeds. She’s just figured learning from mistakes and swallowing pride to accept when you’re wrong is good enough to not warrant a terrible life. 

“Oh, okay.” Camilla eyes the broach in Arete’s hand, though doesn’t say anything else. 

“I won’t tell on you,” Arete reassures, “but I’m going to keep this. If you get in trouble with your mother, you can blame it on me, okay? And if you still don’t get a berry tart, I’ll save one for you.” 

She looks up with bright, violet eyes. “You will?” 

“Yes. Now run along, little Camilla.” 

The girl smiles gratefully before fleeing the infirmary, her tiny tapping steps fading down the corridor. 

Later in the afternoon, Arete gets a visitor in the library. She’s been buried in notes and the dusty pages of old tomes for hours. The desk is partially cluttered only to hide Katerina’s journal underneath everything. A wise choice, as Isabella strides over to her desk, glancing at the mess she’s made. 

“A queen hard at work,” she starts, posture ever perfect, hands folded against her abdomen. Her hair is a deeper tone than the lilac hue of Camilla’s. It’s always up in some fashion of elaborate curls held together. Today it’s up in such a way to imitate the shape of roses. A long lock of hair on either side of her face hangs in a loose curl. “Reminds me of Lady Katerina. She was always working for the betterment of Nohr.” 

“It’s a kingdom worth saving,” Arete replies, setting her quill down. “How can I help you, Isabella?” 

The woman studies her, face rigidly stoic. “Camilla tells me she ran into you earlier.” 

“Quite literally. I took her to the infirmary after she fell.”

“She’s rather useless sometimes, yes.” Isabella flicks off lint from the shoulder of her velvet sleeve. “I apologize on her behalf, and I can assure you it won’t happen again. Rest easy knowing she’ll be punished accordingly. Best she learns early not to make such simple mistakes.” 

“Camilla is only 6.” 

“The sooner they learn, the better. Or will your own child become a rebellious troubled adolescent when she ages?” 

“Azura won’t turn out that way,” Arete firmly replies. “She has me to discipline her. But even as a child, she’s quite sweet, so I’m not too worried. I understand where you’re coming from, Isabella, I really do. However, I don’t think Camilla should be spending her childhood years as a pawn and in irrational fear of her own parent.” 

For a moment, Isabella is quiet. Then she saunters around to Arete’s side of the table. “You’re still new, Lady Arete, so a word to the wise.” She leans over, hands curling around the back of the chair. “Don’t get involved in matters that don’t concern you. It’s quite costly here for one to stick their nose in business irrelevant to them.” 

“So, I should learn from the mistresses that met their untimely end, is what you’re saying.” 

With a hum and creeping smile, Isabella replies, “Oh, I see now why King Garon thinks so highly of you. A smart woman; I like that.” She walks away to the other side of the table again. “It’ll do you good to keep out of the way. You’re queen, after all. You have much more pressing matters to attend to than… _disagreements_ between us other ladies.” 

As she walks away, Arete asks, “And the children? Why must they get tangled in your feud and suffer the consequences?”

“Your majesty,” she replies, tone dripping with acid, “if I may, I’d like to offer another word of advice, one I’m sure you’ll understand.” Face ever stoic, yet holding a piercing stare that can shatter glass. “Don’t tell a mother how to raise her children.” She nods once, casting a dismissive wave at her. “Good day, Lady Arete.” 

_I better keep a closer eye on both Azura and Xander. They’ll be targets at some point too, no thanks to me._  

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


During the dinner service, she eats with Garon at the head of the table. Xander and Azura are seated at either side of her with Iago across, once again drooling at the king’s feet with his empty flattery. What it is now, she doesn’t care to know, and drowns out his grating voice. 

The other concubines sit in the remaining seats after the ones of other visiting nobles or the those who live within the castle. Camilla is farther down the table, wedged between her mother and another mistress. On her cheek is a red mark, as if she’d been slapped. Fresh apparently, with how much the girl keeps rubbing at it. Her eyes are puffy, but she doesn’t cry, instead taking timid sips of her stew when Isabella stares ruefully at her. 

Either Garon doesn’t notice from where he sits, or he doesn’t care. She should bring it up to him later. Bastard or not, they’re still his children. He has to know they’re being being forced to carry out their mothers’ dangerous games, right?

“Is everything fine, Arete?” he asks, breaking her thoughts. “You’ve hardly touched your meal.” 

“Yes,” she lies with a smile. “I’m just tired, is all.” 

“Well, eat up, and then head to the bath to ease your muscles. I keep telling you that you work too hard.” 

“There’s much work to be done, my love. But I’ll take care of myself, don’t you fret.”

“Good.” 

She thinks she hears him mutter, ‘Just like Katerina; always overworks herself,’ but doesn’t ask him to speak up and repeat it. 

Both Xander and Azura are given the biggest portions of desserts when the main course is over with. Their eyes light up at the bulging custard puffs, chocolate cake slices, and colorful berry tarts. The other children get smaller portions, but aren’t any less happy about the delicacies of powdered sugar decorated on their dishes. 

Camilla doesn’t get to share in the delight of sweets this evening. Isabella takes her helping and eats them herself, giving her daughter a knowing look before continuing a conversation across the table. The girl stares down at her empty plate, poking at the crumbs. She rubs at the burning blotch on her cheek, a stray tear rolling down between her small fingers. 

Arete sneaks a small plate of berry tarts with her after dinner, one of each flavor. Fortune has it that Isabella leaves Camilla to her own devices in the dim corridor, no doubt another punishment for failing to adequately steal from Eleanora. 

“M-Mother,” she begins, walking after her, “but I’m tired. I-I wanna sleep, and my knees hurt.” 

Isabella casts a glare over her shoulder. “You’ll walk over each and every stone up to the room. Go back to the kitchen, and start again. _Now._ Don’t wake me when you get there afterward.” Her dress twirls violently as she sharply turns the corner and up the staircase. 

Camilla sobs, sluggishly walking back to the dining hall. She rubs at her eyes as she drags her feet, and so jolts when Arete says, “I’ve been looking for you.” 

“Lady Arete,” she sniffs, wiping at her eyes with her sleeve, “h-hello. Um,” she steps around her, “good bye.” 

“Wait a moment, dear.” She catches her shoulder and walks with her inside the hall. “I said I would, and I did.” 

“Did what?” 

Arete gestures her hand to the table where the plate of tarts rests. “I saved you a few of these. I don’t know which ones you like, so I got one of each.” 

The girl gasps, staring bug-eyed at the plate, and then looks up to Arete. “You…” 

“It’s alright.” She presses a finger to her lips. “I won’t tell your mother if you don’t.” 

Camilla blinks at her, before reaching over to a strawberry tart. When she bites into it, she beams, gobbling it up before taking a blueberry one next. Arete sits down on the chair and lifts Camilla into her lap, dragging the dish closer. 

“You’re really nice, and pretty,” Camilla says after her fifth tart; boysenberry. “I wish you were my mother….” 

She smiles, petting her hair. “What a lovely thing to say. Thank you, dear. You’re quite adorable yourself. I’m sure when you’re grown, you’ll become a lovely lady.” 

The girl gives a toothy grin, the edge of her lips smeared with berry filling. Camilla glances down at the pendant that hangs from her neck, fiddling with it in her clean hand. “That’s pretty too.” 

“It belonged to my father,” Arete explains, “and his mother before him, her father before her, and so on. It’s been in my family for gener—ugh.” A slight pain tugs at the back of her head. _So, even being this vague, headaches will consume me. Well, it’s at least good to know there’s a meter of pain from the curse, and not a definite and spontaneous combustion into flames._  

“Are you okay, Lady Arete?” Camilla asks with worried eyes, a half-eaten tart in her hand. 

“Yes, I’m fine. Just tired.” She wipes the crumbs off of the girl’s cheeks. “Would you like to hear a song?”

“Oh, oh yes! You sing really nice too!” 

“Well, I’ll make one up just for you. Do you want to hear it, or should I sing a song you already know?”

“Make one up!” 

“Very well then.” She hums the beginning, rocking Camilla gently in her lap. Then the words flow from her lips, rhyming the lyrics as she goes along. The girl smiles up at her, cheeks full with her desserts. By the time she’s finished the plate, she’s leaning against Arete, eyes drooping closed. 

_The poor thing didn’t ask for this life. I can only pray she lives long enough to see an end to this needless feud._  

Arete can’t look after her once the night is over. No doubt Isabella will harshly punish Camilla, should she find out. And while Arete’s sympathetic to the innocents forcibly involved in the feud, she can’t defend them all, lest Xander and Azura are hurt in revenge for meddling. 

Her children come before all the others. As bitter as the taste is at the back of her throat, both the rightful heir to the Nohrian crown, and the heir to the Vallite throne, need to be prioritized above all else. They’re the best hope the world has to stopping Anankos. Those innocents who die in her blind eye will be mourned, and guilt will weigh on her shoulders knowing she could’ve done more. 

But the souls of millions are always worth more than those of a select few. 

Karuna would call her ‘cold’, as she did whenever she was too assertive. Even now, she can imagine her voice and pointing fingers, telling her why it isn’t always just. 

_Sister, one day you’ll understand the duty you were born into. The world isn’t fair, but there won’t be a world to criticize should it be destroyed. May the gods bless you and Divya, and bring us back together once again someday._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another sore spot I have about FE14 is that Camilla's horrible childhood isn't given enough focus. (And so her personality as an adult resulting from that is taken as a joke more than half the time.) It makes me sad that she's essentially reduced to just the Big Tiddy Fanservice Lady by both the canon and the fan base. *sigh* She's another character I'm gonna try to give justice to, so wish me luck!
> 
> Chapter 11 will begin another shift in POV, so let's see who's turn it is to share their experiences with us.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	11. XI

The storm fades the further she gallops away from the canyon. 

Karuna stifles her sobs and tries to shush Divya with a poor excuse for a lullaby. But her daughter continues to weep and screech in her basket. She never was as good as Freyja when it comes to singing. 

“Please, please my love. Hush now. You can’t—it’s dangerous out here. Try not to make so much noise. Please…. Oh gods….” 

She trembles as she rides aimlessly through the night. The tears don’t stop, her sister’s screams never leave her ears, and regrets of abandoning her retainers has her curling over the front of her saddle. Valla is gone, possibly forever, and she knows she needs to stop lamenting over things already done. But where does she go now? Where even _is_ she? 

A dirt road winds from yonder, and she steers her horse toward it. When the tears have dried her eyes, and the sobs tired her lungs, she hums as best as she can to calm down Divya. Finally she quiets too, and soon falls into a slumber. Cicadas are the only noise keeping her company now, aside from the soft clops of her horse’s hooves. 

_Cicadas?_  

Oh, then she must be somewhere east of the canyon. These insects only ever thrive in Hoshido and its neighboring lands. It can only mean Freyja ended up on the Nohrian side. Fitting, as Karuna doubts she’d do half as well as her elder sibling fighting off bandits and wandering wolfskin. Freyja is no doubt grieving and shaken regardless: she’s just lost her husband, her home, her sister, and her people. But she’s always been the more emotionally fortified between them two. Even then, every person has a breaking point. 

Karuna makes a silent prayer to whatever god is listening that Freyja remains safe and finds refuge sooner than later. 

While there aren’t as many bandits in Hoshido, it’s been known to have rogue ninja scurrying about. She prefers the bandits to the rogues; the former are never as dangerous. They’re always loud and disorganized when it comes to fighting—easy to spot, even if they’re a bother to flee from at times. Freyja will have no problem disposing of them if need be. 

Ninja, however, are silent killers. So strict are they in their discipline, that even in friendly circumstances they keep themselves hidden, ever alert. It takes a trained eye or heightened instinct to sense their presence. Karuna always failed to notice them, even Sumeragi’s retainers. Gave her plenty of jolts whenever they’d address her in greeting. 

She hopes, prays, _begs_ she doesn’t encounter any on her journey, especially at night. It’s doubtful she’ll survive the confrontation. Or worse: run into the kitsune as they make their nocturnal hunts. 

Her horse can cross great distances, sure, but the animal hasn’t gotten much rest since leaving Valla. The poor thing is most likely tired and hungry now. Regrettably, she can’t stop until she’s found shelter, and halting in the middle of nowhere at night never bodes well for anyone. In vain the moon shines upon the ground, as she still can’t see much in front of her. All she can make out are the tops of trees in the distance. A forest nearby, then. 

It’s still a risk going inside, but it’s better than being out in the open valley. 

Only bits of moonlight can puncture through the dense treetops, unfortunately. “Now I _really_ can’t see a damn thing,” she says, holding Divya closer. Karuna strokes the horse’s neck, whispering, “I’m sorry you have to travel through this. I know it must be difficult.” She doesn’t reply with any sort of equine noise of distress, and so they continue on at a steady pace.

The clops of the horse grow louder when she’s passed several identical trees. Almost as if the creature is walking on stone. Small shards of moonlight hit against the stone of some structure up ahead. Karuna rides closer, trying to match the visible pieces into something comprehensible. From what she can see, it’s shaped similarly to a doorway, though much larger. 

Gasping, she steers the mount close to it. “It’s not a door,” she murmurs to herself, “but a gate,” touching the moss along the stone. The familiar sight of a _torii_ almost brings her tears again. “We can stay here, at least for the night.” Karuna hops off her horse to carefully lead her up the small staircase where a modest shrine rests. 

“We’ll be safe here,” she comforts, stroking the creature’s mane. “I don’t have much to give you, I’m afraid. Don’t know if you’ll like the grass here either.” Karuna shuffles through the bag her retainers prepared for her. Within it is a small sack of food. Mainly bread, though horses can’t eat such things. She finds an orange at the bottom, and peels it. 

“Here you go.” She holds out her hand and the horse eats the fruit gratefully. “That’s a good girl. We’ll look for water tomorrow morning. Right now, we need to rest.” 

Karuna ties the horse to a post along the shrine. She doesn’t know what the shrine is for, but she leaves an offering of food anyway before taking shelter inside. Within her bag are blankets and an extra change of clothes. She folds her spare dress into a pillow, lays one blanket on the ground, and the second she uses to cover herself. 

The dragonstone glows faintly at the bottom of her bag. 

“Oh, Janus,” she whispers, tracing the facets of the gem. “I wish I could’ve done more to help you. Maybe if you had remembered earlier, we might’ve…” 

A sharp pain pinches at the back of her head. Karuna cries out softly, holding her forehead. “A warning,” she swallows, “right.” _So, the mad god was serious after all._  

Karuna sets Divya’s basket next to her. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes. “I imagined a different life for you. One where you’ll never want anything, one where both your mother and father love you and help you grow. But… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know if it’s my fault, or your father’s, or just fate deciding this. But we’ll make the best of things, you’ll see.” 

She gives her child a kiss before tugging her close, trying her best to sleep. 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Dawn hasn’t even graced the skies yet when Karuna is startled awake by the quick swipe of the door. 

“Huh, so I guess the horse belongs to you.” 

A short and stout woman walks into the room. She begins to sweep the entrance with a broom, saying, “So, did something happen?” When Karuna tilts her head, the woman clarifies, “You’ve got tears streaking down your face, and you’re sleeping on the dirty floor of a lonely shrine. Something happened.” 

Karuna touches her cheeks with the pads of her fingers. Sure enough, they’re moist. Her dream last night was atrocious, the screams of her people echoing in her ears, Janus’s sad smile after he kisses her, Freyja’s panicked face disappearing into the night. Among them were images of swirling red eyes, no matter where she turned. 

She knows Anankos only did what he did because he split away the last shred of his sanity. It’s the nature of his kind. But she can’t help wanting to slay him anyway for doing this to her family and her kingdom. 

_I kid myself. There’s nothing I can do; I’m like a chicken clambering around without a head. I wouldn’t know where to begin looking for answers. I don’t even know how to take care of my own child._  

“Um, I had a terrible dream. That’s all.” 

“Oh I’ve been there,” the woman sympathizes. “Though really it’s only when I eat too much.” She laughs, wiping some brown locks away from her face. When Karuna doesn’t respond, her grin fades. “You look like you’ve been through a storm or something.” 

Divya begins to cry from her basket. The woman stares at it with wide eyes. “ _And_ you have a kid?” She looks over Karuna, to her makeshift bed, the tattered clothes and stringy mess of hair. “Hmm, you’re awfully young for being out here alone. I pin you about, ah, maybe 10 years younger than me, definitely. What’s your name?” 

Even saying ‘Janus’ aloud gave her a headache. No doubt her own name, and her daughter’s, will have the same consequence attached to it. But if she changes their names, then Freyja might never be able to find them. The better likelihood is that her sister came to the same conclusion. Karuna wouldn’t have found her that way anyway. She never did try to learn tracking magic. 

“My name…,” she starts slowly, scrolling through every non-Vallite name she can think of. A Nohrian one wouldn’t do any good in Hoshido, either. As hard and quickly as she tries, the only thing that comes to mind is her beloved Janus, and the smile on his face when he held their child in his arms for the first time. 

Swallowing, she replies, “It’s Mikoto.” 

“Fancy name there.” Admittedly, it’s the heroine of the story from which she gave Janus his name. Freyja would laugh if she knew. “And your daughter?” 

Divya continues to weep from behind the lid of the basket. Karuna takes her out and rocks her in her arms. She’s reduced to stifled whining and failing arms. “This is Kamui,” she adds. It’s close enough to her original name. “Kamui, my daughter.” _The daughter of an old mad god, actually._  

“You’ve got a knack for naming, huh Mikoto?” the woman says lightly. “Though I guess you’d have a name like that to match your dress.” 

“What?” 

“Look, it’s okay.” The woman kneels down in front of her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Life isn’t fair to all of us; I don’t blame you for leaving. But nobody from those kinda cities will bother coming out all the way here to a little no-name place. You won’t have to go back to that house or be forced to pleasure a man ever again, okay?” 

_Oh heavens above, she thinks I’m a runaway whore._  

“Ah, th-thank you.” She smiles awkwardly, figuring it best to let her believe that lie. “That’s very nice of you. But I won’t be a bother, I promise. I’ll leave after—” 

“Nonsense.” The woman goes back to sweeping inside the shrine. “Where are you even going to go? I’m sure you just up and left in a hurry.”

“Yes, I did do that, didn’t I?” though she poses the question more to herself than the woman. “I really don’t know what I’m doing. Oh gods. How did I get here? _Why_ did I get here?” 

“It’s okay darling,” the woman soothes. “As long as you pull your weight, you’re welcome in my village. I’m sure the others will be happy to help you find your niche too.” 

Karuna takes her horse and follows the woman away from the shrine when she’s done cleaning it. By now the sun is peaking over the horizon, casting warm colors into the fading deep blue of the sky. They walk for a while and exit the forest from another end, over a bridge at the bottom of a hill. Dotted all around it are residencies with one big storage edifice at the top. 

The village is small, with only a couple dozen houses. But there’s plenty of farmland, and a rice paddy on the other side of the hill. Already people are working the soil or steering the livestock to graze.

“Your horse will love it here,” the woman says. “Now it can run around and eat all it wants.” 

“She won’t cause any trouble. I know how to take care of her.” 

“Really? I wouldn’t think city folk knew much of anything regarding life out here.” 

“Ah, well, you see,” _lie Karuna_ , _you have to lie_ , “the man, the one who impregnated me,” _oh that sounds so awful_ , “he liked horses. Would tell me a lot about them, and let me see the one he used when he came to the, uh, house.” 

“Did he give you that one?” 

“Oh, yes he did! Or, sort of. You see, I came from a town, not a city. But it was big enough that the house did good business—close enough to the ports that merchants would travel up along the road at the mouth of the mountain. The big one that divides Hoshido and Nohr. But see, well, bandits and others like them knew about it too. They razed it to the ground. Many died, including that man, the one who always requested my company. But in the fray, I took his horse to escape. I figure who better to care for her than me, since I know more than enough about them.”

“Man, you’ve really been through a lot, haven’t you?” 

Karuna looks mournfully down at the bundle in her arms. “Yes, I have. My daughter doesn’t deserve this, but I’m going to try my best and raise her right.” 

They pass by a few villagers who happily greet the woman a good morning, calling her ‘Kiyo’. A few of them stare at Karuna, but otherwise say nothing. 

“Gossip travels fast here,” the woman—Kiyo, says, “so no doubt people will come asking about the new girl in town.” 

“You really don’t have to trouble yourself.” 

“No trouble at all.” They come to one of the houses on the slope, just near the dirt path leading up to the storage edifice. “It’s small, but should do you just fine.” Only one large room, with a doorway to presumably the small bedroom. “Can’t say there’s a nice place for you to sleep, but at least you’ll be protected from the rain and snow, right?” 

“This will be fine,” Karuna says. “It’s more than I could’ve ever asked for.” 

“Great to hear.” Kiyo smiles, taking a bucket from the corner of the dining space. “Now I’m gonna go fetch some water so you can bathe. Be right back.” 

When Kiyo leaves, Karuna helps herself to exploring the house. The large front room has a dining area with one low table and two patchwork cushions. At the center is a pit, presumably for a cooking fire. Shelves alongside it are lined with cooking utensils like pots and tea cups. On either side of the room are round curtain-less windows, though they do have wooden bars going through them, perhaps as a safety precaution. The sloped ceiling is high, and a thick pillar stands at the intersection, grounding itself straight in the center of the whole room. 

The bedroom is small, with a single window and large futon. A handmade chest hides at the corner, possibly to store clothes. Aside from that, there isn’t much else. There is one other room, but it’s much smaller, half the size of the bedroom. Inside are just cleaning supplies, and whatever else Kiyo uses for her work, whatever it is. 

“Alright.” the woman in question returns, standing by the open door. She’s handling a bucket with two hands. “I’ve got the water. It’s cold though. Do you mind?” 

“No, it’s fine.” 

Kiyo escorts her to the back of the house where another small room juts out from the side. It has two doors. The one on the right is wedged closer to the edge of the addition. “We don’t have those fancy big bathhouses,” she explains, “so all of us got our own little thing here. This door,” she opens the right door, revealing a wooden plank with a hole over an elevated and enclosed wooden seat, “is where you’d take a piss or crap—don’t worry, I clean it regularly.” 

She shuts the door and opens the left one. “And this is the bath.” It’s much more spacious than the sewage side, but just as small as the storage room inside the house. Kiyo sets the bucket at the corner, drawing the curtains closed. “So soap’s right there, and this should be enough water for a good scrubbing. Here’s the cloth—this is clean too—and I’ll be back at the front looking after your kid, okay?” 

“Thank you, Kiyo.” 

“No problem.” 

She’s left to wash every nook and crevice of her body. Away runs the rainwater stuck to her skin and the dirt from the shrine, along with the tears of her past. She hopes Freyja found someplace to stay until she’s well enough to find some productive goal in Nohr. 

How are they ever going to reunite? What if they never find each other again? And what if Janus’s plan to contain Anankos fails? There has to be something she can do—anything, to warn Hoshido of the threat in their future. But she can’t speak of Valla, and doubts writing it down will be without consequence either. 

Midway through scrubbing her body clean, the door opens and Kiyo loiters by the entrance. Karuna hurries to cover herself with her arms, and the woman laughs. “You’ve got everything I do,” she says, “so nothing to be embarrassed about. Though you’ve definitely got _a lot_ going on compared to me.” 

“Um… thank you, I suppose?” 

“Only the truth. Anyway, realized you left your clothes in the house. Thought I’d come by and give you something to wear. No need to raise eyebrows with that fancy stuff, so here’s some old rags of mine. They should do for now. Oh and, take this towel to dry yourself.” 

After Karuna gives her thanks for the outfit, she’s left alone again to finish bathing. The clothes are slightly big on her, but they’re warm and comfortable nonetheless. She goes back to the house and finds Kiyo cooking some breakfast at the fire. Divya’s basket is set on the table next to two bowls of rice. 

“Feel better now?” Kiyo asks without looking away from her cooking. “Hope so, ‘cause I’m almost done here with food. You must be hungry.” 

“Oh, you really are too kind,” Karuna says. “I can help if you’d—” 

“Nope. You’ll start helping once you regain your bearings. Gotta find somewhere for you to work first.” She smiles at the pan where eggs and some meat are sizzling. “Yeah, these should be done now.” 

They eat in silence at the table. Hot tea steams in the cup next to the bowl, which Karuna won’t touch until she’s done feeding Divya. She suckles the breastmilk enthusiastically. Karuna’s cheeks flare, apologizing for making a mess on the clothes. 

“It’s fine.” Kiyo scarfs down some rice and egg. “One day I wanna have my own little me, so it’ll be good practice getting used to having a baby around. Husband’s not ready yet though. But one day.”

“Oh, you have a husband?” 

“Yep. He’s out selling some of our things with a few others at the closest town over. Should be back by the end of the week.” Kiyo eyes the warm, untouched food on the other end of the table. “You need to eat girlie if you’re gonna keep giving your baby milk.” 

Karuna nods, letting Divya suckle until her small head turns away. She wipes the baby’s mouth and kisses her temple, setting her back in the basket. “Sorry about that.” She blushes, covering her exposed breast with the folds of her clothes. “But my daughter should be quiet for a time now.” 

“That’s okay.” Kiyo pushes the bowl toward her with the blunt end of her chopsticks. “Just eat, Mikoto.” 

Nodding again, Karuna begins to eat. Her tongue tingles with flavors of egg, rice, and chicken as the warm food settles down in her stomach. She shovels more of it into her mouth and vaguely hears Kiyo laughing. Tears anew bead at the corners of her eyes until she’s crying again, mouth full of rice. 

“What’s wrong?” Kiyo asks, looking concerned. “Don’t like it?” 

“It’s not that,” Karuna sobs. “It’s just—thank you. When I was out there, I was cold and alone and I didn’t know what to do and it was night and everyone I ever loved is lost to me—,” rice and bits of chicken drip from her mouth, “and now I found you and I’m eating and making a mess at your table and wasting your food you worked so hard for and I’m so sorry.”

“Alright, none of that.” Kiyo reaches over and grips Karuna’s hand. “I promise it’s not a bother, and you can make it up to me by working in the village. Whether it’s helping tend the animals or the rice fields, sewing, building—whatever. Just promise me you’ll work hard and get along with everyone. Okay?” 

“Yes,” Karuna nods, wiping her eyes with her sleeve, “I promise.” 

“Good.” Her generous host sits back and crosses her arms, smiling. “But nice to know you like my cooking!” 

“It’s delicious,” she replies, swallowing. “And like I said, I can help you with many tasks. I might not know how to do everything, but I’m willing to learn.” 

“And that’s all I wanna hear.” She gets up and goes back to the fire, sitting down in front of it. “Since you spilled some food, how ‘bout I make us some more, yeah? What do you say, Mikoto?” 

She nods, wiping her mouth clean of rice grains and flecks of egg. “That sounds lovely.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it was time we got back to Karuna's POV to see how she's doing. She got a tad luckier than her sister did after escaping Valla, huh? This chapter was slightly shorter than I usually make them, I think, but the next one will be longer than normal. It'll be an interesting read though, in my opinion.
> 
> Also funny coincidence. Posting the 11th chapter on the 11th day of the month, ha ha.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	12. XII

Getting used to her new identity is a little troublesome, if only because she catches herself almost slipping into Vallite names. Kiyo once asked her if she had any family, to which she lied and said no, she was all alone. She wouldn’t know what to call Freyja, had she told the truth. And on the off chance they did meet with Kiyo present, Freyja most likely would’ve already crafted a new identity anyway. 

_Best to leave it alone for now._  

“Kiyo,” Mikoto asks, helping her wash the rice later that week, “if one were to travel into Nohr, how much would it cost from here?” 

“Now why would you wanna go all the way over there?” Kiyo sticks her tongue out from the corner of her lips as she delicately molds some clay with her fingers. “We’ve got everything we need right here in Hoshido.” 

“Yes, but, perhaps it might be necessary one day to travel over there.” 

“Like for…?” 

Mikoto shrugs. “Well, just as a trip for leisure.” 

The woman clicks her tongue against her teeth. “Those men at the house really filled your head with ideas, huh? Never had any interest in leaving this village, unless it was for business. But depending on how far you’d wanna go, I’d think it’d cost a lot, wouldn’t it? You need ship fare, money to stay at those inns, more to buy stuff, and enough of it to come back.” 

“It does sound expensive when you put it like that….” She’ll have to work extra diligently then if she ever hopes to save enough to find Freyja. As of now, Mikoto has no idea where she should even begin looking for help in bring down Anankos. On top of that, she’ll also have to train Kamui in some combat art, plus figure out a way to let her know of her destiny without activating the curse. 

Her new life just started, and already she wants to crawl into a hole and stay there.

“But if you really wanna get out,” Kiyo says, “one day you can join the others and me in going to the capital to sell our stuff.”

“You mean Shirasagi?”

“That general area, yeah. We go twice a year, only ‘cause the trip is kinda long. Sell a bunch of our stuff,” Kiyo pats the clay beside her, “and make enough coin for what it’s worth.” 

“And you sell your pottery?” 

Kiyo smiles wide. “Sure do. It’s my ‘thing’. Only the people who have something to sell actually go so we can cut down on costs. Afraid you might not be able to until you can find something to bring in money.” 

With that in mind, Mikoto works hard to find something of value in the village. It’s mostly made up of farmers, but there are a few artisans, like Kiyo and her pottery. The items aren’t as extravagant as the ones she’s seen in Shirasagi, but there’s a modest charm to all the textiles, wood carvings, and earthenware that don’t make them any less appealing. 

At the end of the week, Kiyo’s husband comes back home with a group of other villagers hauling a caravan. It’s mostly empty, save for the proceeds they managed to bring back, along with some other commodities of trade. 

He’s a burly man with short dark brown hair and a perpetual frown. But at the sight of Kiyo, his eyes light up and a smile graces his lips. 

“So how’d it go?” she asks, dusting off their blankets outside. Mikoto watches idly from the doorway, sweeping the interior of the house. 

“Same as always. Made just a little over what we were expecting.” He hauls a basket over from behind his back, and Kiyo gasps. With a smile, he says, “They had peaches this time. _And_ oranges.” 

“ _Yes!_ ” Enthusiastically, she takes the basket and carries it inside. “Oh Mikoto,” she beams at her, “you’re going to love these. Have you ever had them?” 

“No,” she lies. 

“Then you’re in for a treat! Best summer fruit we’ve got around!” 

Her husband enters through the doorway, warily eyeing Mikoto. “Who’s this, Kiyo? Never seen her before.” 

“Oh that’s Mikoto,” she replies over her shoulder. “Or as the folks here are calling her, New Girl. She’s gonna stay with us.” 

“For how long?” 

“’Til whenever.” 

“ _Whenever?_ ” 

Kiyo shakes her head at him, flicking off a rinsed peach with one hand, and an orange in another. “Look, she’s got nowhere else to go. And give her a break Daichi, alright?” Kiyo hands the fruit to Mikoto. “Poor girl was kept in a whore house for a good chunk of her life.” 

His eyes widen to saucers, and Mikoto can’t help the blush that creeps on her face. “Kiyo,” she mumbles, “was that really necessary?” 

“First thing you gotta know about marriage,” she takes another orange and peels it for herself, “is that there’s no secrets between you and your spouse. That’s the quickest way down the slippery slope. Oh, yeah,” she nods to the bedroom, plopping an orange slice in her mouth, “she’s also got a newborn, so that’s a thing.” 

“Yes but—,” Kiyo walks away, rattling to her husband, Daichi, about the pottery, “—oh, never mind.” _No secrets, I agree, but there’s still a proper way to let them out in the open._  

In the following weeks, Mikoto sees less of Kiyo now that Daichi has returned to the village. Apparently, she only works on her pottery sometimes, and other times, goes out to the rice paddies while her husband attends the daily hunting parties. Mikoto is left with watching over the house until either one of them comes back for meals or at the end of the day. 

One afternoon, Daichi approaches her outside as she’s drying the laundry. He stops and stares with scrutinizing eyes, asking, “So, is it true that you’re a whore?” 

“Excuse me?” She folds a blanket across her arms, slower. He doesn’t say anything in reply. “I was, but thanks to the gods’ blessings, I was able to leave that life behind.”

“Where is this town you come from then?” 

“It was ravaged by barbarians. Only a few survivors, and I escaped in all the fire and chaos. I didn’t want to spend an unforeseeable future on my back with man after man between my legs. I don’t expect you to understand, but I’d at least hope you’d have even an ounce of the same sympathy your wife does.” 

Mikoto turns away from him and continues folding the dried laundry. She brushes past him and back into the house, setting the basket in the bedroom. Kamui rustles from her nap, making small sounds. “Hello, my sweet,” Mikoto whispers. “Did you have a good nap?”

Kamui only makes more little noises in response. 

“Are you hungry? It’s about time to feed you.” She stands up and rocks Kamui in her arms, rubbing down her back with a gentle hand. Daichi enters the house and stands by the doorway, arms crossed. “What? Have you followed me for another interrogation?” 

“Your daughter’s ears, why are they like that? And her eyes are like a snake’s.” 

“I don’t know,” she grimaces, turning away from him, “but she’s my child, and I love her all the same.” 

Daichi comes closer, and Mikoto presses Kamui protectively against her chest. “What is it that you want? I don’t bother, I pull my weight around, and I help out the village. I’m not sure what you expect me to do.” 

“I have every right to be suspicious,” he says gruffly, “because this is a small village, and the nearest big town is a day away. There aren’t any soldiers close enough to come and help us quickly if we need it. Most of ‘em are in the towns that matter, not little specks on the map.” 

“I’m only one woman,” Mikoto points out, “with a helpless child, nonetheless.” 

“All it takes is one demon to destroy a community. Your child looks too much like one.” 

“How dare you,” Mikoto snaps. “You don’t even know me, and yet you’re making such outrageous accusations.” 

“My community is more important than one single no-name woman,” Daichi bites back, “and I’m going to protect it any way I can. Out here, we’ve got no one but each other. Hell, we even look out for our neighboring villages we trade with. So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m suspicious of a woman who doesn’t even look entirely Hoshidan, _and_ who has a child that’s suspiciously not entirely human either.” 

Daichi isn’t wrong, of course. Mikoto’s mother was a Hoshidan noble, and so she never quite looked like Freyja, whose mother was a Nohrian noble. Their shared father, the previous king, was entirely Vallite. With their combined heritages, they didn’t completely look like any of the three. (Or what people considered ‘standard’ for each one.) Just enough to be distinctive, but not enough to not be called ‘mutts’ by the less-than-polite children their age at the time. 

If worse comes to worst, she’d just have to lie yet again that she doesn’t remember her parents. 

“You should know then too,” Mikoto replies, “that otherworldly creatures often turn into humans so that we never know when they’re around. And yes, Kamui isn’t entirely human. But damn if I know who her father really was. After a time, the faces of the men who loom over me blend together in the dim light. All you’re left with is a resolve to forget, to wash away the shame and humiliation of a life you didn’t get to pick, to wish for choices that would’ve helped you in times most dire.” 

Kamui begins to paw at her chest with her tiny fists, making small whines at the back of her throat. “Oh, you hungry now? Alright.” Mikoto glares at Daichi, asking, “Might I have some privacy? Or do I have to tell your wife you were asking about the whore house so you can go there yourself on a detour from your trade routes?” 

He grunts and gives her a hard stare before walking out. Mikoto sits on the floor, brushing the soft fuzz on Kamui’s head. “You’re not a monster,” she whispers, tracing her tiny thin eyebrows with the pad of her thumb, “okay? No matter what anyone says—will say—you’re not a monster.” 

She replies with more warning whines about her hunger. Mikoto smiles, and unclasps her shirt. “Alright, I get it, little one. Less talk, more food.” 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Thankfully, Daichi doesn’t bother her in the days following their confrontation. Kiyo suspects nothing, and Mikoto would rather not worry her with any tension. 

She’s not great at helping cultivate the rice. Being stuck inside the castle for a good portion of her life left her only with brains, but little brawn or skill outside of training. It’s a concern she brings up with Kiyo the next week, just as they’re getting ready for sleep. 

“Eh, so you still haven’t found anything, huh?” 

“No. I feel useless. And everyone in your village works at something, including the children when they’re old enough.”

“You’ve got a baby to take care of though.” 

“Yes,” Mikoto sighs, rocking Kamui in her arms, “I know. But there’s so much else I could be doing too.” 

Kiyo stares off at one of the floor boards, chewing on her lip. “Well, how long does your kid need to be fed?” 

“Um, I was told for at least five months. After that, she can eat actual food.” 

“Damn, then this isn’t gonna work.” She continues after Mikoto gives her a puzzling look. “I was gonna invite you to the hunting parties we usually have. We can always use more hands to help out. Or if not, you can just pick stuff, like mushrooms or wild plants.” 

_Medicine—of course!_  

“I’ve got an idea,” Mikoto suggests, “if you’ll hear me out.”

“Go for it.”

“Alright. Um, so when I was in that house, sometimes the men would tell me things of their professions. And one man was really good at healing. I asked him to teach me some things in exchange for… well, _extra_ pleasure on the side. No charge in money; just knowledge. And so I learned a little, and grew to like it. But I couldn’t practice it much for obvious reasons, though I’m a quick learner.” 

Kiyo bites the inside of her cheek. “We don’t have a healer or anything here, yeah. Just a bunch of farmers. We kinda just wait it out with age-old remedies.” 

“Oh, but those don’t always work. There are much more effective methods that work faster. Of course, I’d need enough herbs and things to actually help.” 

“See,” Kiyo sits back with a huff, “I wouldn’t know what the hell those things looked like, which ones aren’t poisonous, and all that. But you know them?” 

“Yes. The man once brought a book on herbs he made himself. Collected a lot of varieties from both Hoshido and Nohr, he said. I do, in fact, know which ones are safe to eat.” 

Daichi walks into the room and sits down on the futon. He gives Mikoto a hard stare, glancing to the sleeping Kamui. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

“C’mon, we were just having a chat,” Kiyo defends. 

“Well I’m tired, and it’s time for bed. More work in the morning for us both.” 

“Alright, you big baby.” She slams her hand on his back, rubbing circles around it. “We’ll talk more about the herb thing tomorrow, Mikoto. Go get some rest.” 

Daichi raises an eyebrow, reluctantly lying down. “What herbs?” 

“Nothing to bother with, love,” Kiyo soothes. “Just get some rest.” 

Mikoto leaves them alone and heads to her own room. She’s made it more comfortable with her own futon and a small chest for her belongings. Otherwise, there’s nothing else in it, save for Kamui’s wicker cradle. One day she’ll have to get rid of it when her daughter grows. Perhaps somebody in the village will carve her a bigger one when she gets enough money. 

“I could make medicines,” she whispers to Kamui, laying down on the soft fabric. “And then I can go into the other villages and trade for them, make a little money. It won’t be a lot, but at least enough to gain passage to Nohr. From there, well, I don’t know.” 

She kisses Kamui’s head. “One step at a time, though.” 

Because she feels like she’ll just be in the way in the hunting parties, Mikoto doesn’t start collecting herbs until about a week later. She draws pictures of what some of them look like when Kiyo offers to pick them for her. Daichi isn’t impressed, and on more than one occasion, accuses her of being some kind of sorceress. Kiyo is never within earshot when he says such things, but he doesn’t follow up on his insults after each first. 

Mikoto understands why he’s doing it—she’d do anything to protect her own people—but it still leaves a bitter linger knowing she’s done nothing so far to deserve his aggressive reservations. 

Autumn arrives months later, and the villagers do their best to stockpile as much food as they can in their community storehouse. Winter slowly seeps into the remainder of the year, and trading with other nearby villages has slowed. Unfortunately, that means any illness or injuries contracted are harder to treat with less provisions available. 

One afternoon as she’s feeding the fire, a frantic Kiyo returns with a few other people carrying Daichi to the room. Mikoto stands, and asks, “What happened?” 

“That damn boar, those stupid things.” Kiyo runs a hand through her hair. “I told him to be careful, that we didn’t _need_ the huge giant ones. We’re not a lot of people! But he wanted the chance ‘cause it’s not every day you see a boar that huge and—the idiot he just—the thing stomped on his leg and he got thrown around while the others were trying to stop it— _gods!_ ” 

Mikoto rubs her hand soothingly along Kiyo’s back. “I’m assuming it’s bad.”

“Yeah,” she chokes out. “His leg’s broken, and I’m sure a few other bones too. Bruised and bleeding, and in this weather?” She gives a strained smile, eyes shimmering with tears. “I’d be praising the gods forever if he makes it through the winter.” 

She leaves to go help the others in the room. Mikoto stays out of their way, and instead prepares some food to ease Kiyo’s nerves. When the house is quiet again, she joins her in their bedroom. Daichi is lying underneath the futon’s covers, eyes closed and gritting his teeth. Kiyo sits beside him, just staring with a deep frown. 

“Here.” Mikoto hands her the bowl of food. “You need to eat.” 

“I can’t at a time like this,” but she picks up the chopsticks anyway, piling rice into her mouth. “He’s in pain—doesn’t wanna admit it, but I know he is. Says it even hurts to talk.” 

“Ribs might be broken then too.” 

“That’s the _last_ thing we need.” 

Mikoto stares at Daichi who begins to tremble. She places a hand over his forehead, saying, “He requires some healing salves and something to drink. He’ll get a horrible fever otherwise.”

“I already gave him some soup.” 

“Unfortunately, it’s not that easy. But I can help. Just wait here.” 

She returns to her room and rummages through the assortment of herbs she’s stored. Mikoto goes out and about the house, fetching water and heating it, mashing the herbs together and mixing them in a bowl. Kamui watches from where she lays on the futon, large ruby eyes curious. 

“One day I’ll teach you this too,” Mikoto says. “It’s good to know in case of emergencies. I think you’ll like it.”

By the time she’s done, she’s prepared herbal salves and different drinkable mixtures. When she returns to Kiyo, the woman is still staring at her husband, bowl of food now completely empty and set off to the side.

“I’m afraid if I move,” she starts quietly, “he’ll be gone when I come back.” 

“He won’t,” Mikoto assures, kneeling next to him. “I need you to help me. Please set aside the blanket and the clothes where he’s hurt. Get me some more bandages too.”

It’s a delicate process, and she knows Kiyo wants to cry with the way she chews at her lip. Mikoto goes to work, cleaning the wounds again, and spreading the salves over them. It wakes up Daichi who curses and tries to move, only to lie back down in pain. 

“ _Don’t_ ,” she commands. “If you want to survive, you need to listen to me.” He doesn’t move again, only glares at her half-heartedly. “Yes it stings, but it’s better than dying like a dog because of some foolhardy display of masculine pride.”

“What did—” 

“ _Shush._ ” 

“Gods, Daichi, just let her help you!” Kiyo cries. “You’re no use to me dead!” 

At the sight of his wife’s pleading face, he quiets down, and let’s Mikoto continue her work. 

Wounds are thoroughly cleaned and sewn shut, salves spread, and new bandages wrapped. “That should hold you,” she says, wiping her brow with the back of her arm. “Let me clean up, and then I’ll give you something to drink. It should help ease the pain and speed up the recovery process.” 

Kiyo follows her to the kitchen to wash and toss away bloodied bandages. “This’ll really work?” she asks quietly. 

“Yes. But I can’t do anything about his broken bones without a Bloom rod, at least.” 

“Hell, I don’t even know what the fuck that is. Gods help me.”

“Don’t worry, my friend.” Mikoto smiles at her, preparing some warm water for the medicine. “I promise you, he will live. I’ll make sure of it.” 

She returns to Daichi and instructs him to drink the concoction. He looks at it skeptically, but sips it slowly as Kiyo lifts his head. “Good. It’ll keep you alive for now.” 

“For now?” he croaks out. 

“I don’t know how broken your bones are, and won’t know until I use magic. But magic needs to be channeled through items, as just using it raw is pretty difficult. On your trade routes, you pass by many villages, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Do you happen to remember—or know anyone who knows, if there’s a village close enough that sells healing rods?” 

“Those things that the big city folk use?” He huffs out, moaning in pain. “Shit. Ah, well, the closest I can think of is a town southeast along the route, like if you were going to Izumo. A little place called Kageshima. Takes two days to get there by horse, though.” 

“I see.” Mikoto sits back and sighs, some of her bangs blowing away. “Then I’ll have to wait. Winter just started.” Both Kiyo and Daichi glance at her, so she adds, “You’ll live through the new year so long as I keep treating you. But I do need to leave eventually to get some rods. Broken bones are serious, and herbs alone can’t give you a path to recovery.” 

“…You sure I’ll live?”

“Yes. Your body also needs time to heal enough that I can actually use magic on you. Some people can’t handle being healed with magic, which is why you never use it on its own. Manual treatment needs to be done alongside it.” 

Daichi is quiet, simply staring at her. Then he says, “If I die, can you look after Kiyo for me?” 

“You’re not gonna kick the bucket!” Kiyo scolds. “Don’t talk like that.” 

“You won’t die,” Mikoto assures, “so long as I can do something to help you.” 

And she does. The weeks that follow, she stays at home watching over Daichi. Other villagers who go out to hunt catch wind of her expertise, and so Kiyo shares with them the images of herbs. Every day somebody manages to bring back something she can use to help Daichi. He still doesn’t say much, but in his pained state, Mikoto doubts he’d be a good conversationalist anyway. 

The Nohrian New Year passes and they enter into January. Winter is never too harsh in Hoshido, and so the middle of the month is when Mikoto feels confident enough to make the trek to Kageshima. 

“Please take care of Kamui,” she tells Kiyo as she mounts the horse. “She won’t cry, so long as she’s fed and changed.” 

“Yeah, I’ll look out for her, I promise.” She opens her mouth, then closes it again, tightening the shawl around her shoulders. “Thank you for doing this, Mikoto. I don’t—if I hadn’t found you when I did, he’d be dead by now.” 

“Well, if it’s of any consolation, I don’t believe in coincidences so much.” 

A small smile blooms on Kiyo’s lips. “You’re an interesting one, alright.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she replies, returning the smile. 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


The trip lasts longer than Daichi said, only because the traders made stops in other nearby villages first. Mikoto didn’t mind it, as she acquired some other kinds of herbs along the way. When the caravan does get to Kageshima, Mikoto hurries to browse the shops, not wanting to delay any more time. 

“You okay strolling around the village by yourself?” one of the men, Itsuki, asks. Or at least she’s positive that’s his name. At this point she’s too afraid to ask, not wanting to embarrass herself after a year of living in the village. 

“Don’t worry about me. Let’s just get our necessary provisions so we can return home. I’m sure Daichi wants to work as soon as possible.” 

“He’s stubborn like an ox. That bastard’s not going anywhere, ‘Koto.” Itsuki smiles at her reassuringly. “But can’t say I disagree in wanting to be back there sooner than later.” He walks next to her as they head into the town with a few others while the rest watch over the caravan at the edge of the marketplace.

Mikoto wanders around with her companion close by, who gives her a casual tour of the place. He asks if she wants to get some food at a tea house before the continued search, but she politely declines. “Maybe after,” she says. “I really just want to get the necessary supplies as soon as possible.” 

Eventually she finds the rod shop. At the back of the room is an elderly man snoring over his scroll of what she thinks is his inventory list. The rods are sorted by potency (and the correlating price) in several barrels. Some medicines and salves line the shelves above them. 

“We definitely don’t have these back at the village,” Itsuki comments. “And you know how to use ‘em?” 

“I have an affinity for magic, so yes. Daichi, and the others back home, will certainly recover quicker with the added healing properties of magic.” 

The man helps her carry the staves she can afford. Only two Bloom rods, though they’re resilient enough that they should last a while. _I might have to ask the traders to pick one up for me every now and again however. If only I knew how to make them myself._  

“Excuse me,” Mikoto places some jars of salves on the counter, “I’d like to buy these. Sir?” 

With a snort, the elderly man sits up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes. He peers at the salves and rods placed before him. “Oh, oh yes, of course. Ah, how much did…” 

“The Bloom rods are 500 each, and the salves are 150.” Mikoto plucks a vulnerary nearby and sets it beside the other provisions. “I’ll take this single one too, priced at 300.” 

“Yes, yes.” He counts the items with his fingers and tallies up the cost. “That’ll be 1,750.” Mikoto picks through her coin purse for the exact amount. It’s the last of the Hoshidan currency she brought from Valla. She rubs the final gold coin between her fingers, before plopping it into the open palm of the elder. 

“Thank you for your business,” he says, giving a cough and clearing his throat. “Do you know how to maintain the rods? They’ll last longer if you take proper care of them.” 

“I do know, but thank you anyway.” 

To Itsuki’s dismay, they don’t stop for tea when they continue their stroll. But he doesn’t protest beyond a disappointed grumble, and continues to carry her things back to the caravan. After securing the objects inside, he asks, “Are you _sure_ you don’t wanna get a snack?” 

“No, I’m fine thank you. I’d rather wait for us to all eat.” 

He sighs, and sits next to her on the caravan. “You _do_ know we’re gonna stay here for the night. We’ll leave tomorrow morning. That’s usually what happens on these long trips.” 

“I have no money left,” she finally admits. 

“You mean Kiyo’s money. Surely you brought some of your own too.” 

“No, my own money. It’s not Kiyo’s fault that Daichi is hurt. It’s nobody’s fault that they’re sick even when they tried hard to stay healthy. Circumstance isn’t always kind, frankly. From where I came, this…,” she thumbs at the seams of her empty coin pouch, “is all I had when I left. But it’ll do the village good, so I don’t mind spending it all.” 

Itsuki doesn’t say anything, not that she expects him to. She’d rather not keep reminding people about her fabricated past as a whore. As untrue as it is, it still hurts, only because Kamui will grow up believing it. Then what will they say about _her?_  

“I’ll treat you.”

Mikoto is met with a genuine smile as she glances at him. “Oh, no but you don’t…” 

“And I’ll pay you for your service too.” 

She’s silent, and opens her mouth to speak, before thinning her lips into a line. With reddening cheeks, Itsuki quickly sputters, “ _No_ , not that! You don’t even do that any—and even if you did I wouldn’t—I have a wife!” 

“That’s never stopped a client before.” 

“Oh gods.” Itsuki covers his face, and says behind his hands, “No I meant I’ll pay you if you’ll help my wife with her pregnancy!” He stares straight ahead, cheeks still slightly pink. “She’s excited, of course. But also really scared. I… I know that not all mothers survive giving birth, and I want my kid to have one.” 

“Why didn’t you say so before?” 

“‘Cause I’m not good with words, especially around beautiful women. And no I’m not flirting! I love my wife, but I’m not good with talking to attractive people! Like at all! Hell, even some handsome men make me stare at the floor when they talk to me! And I’m not even into fellas!” 

“I believe you; there’s no need to cause a ruckus,” she replies with a laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t melt into the ground now. And of course I’ll help.”

He sighs deeply, and gives her a relieved smile. “Thank you, Mikoto.” 

She ends up going with him later to a tea shop for a relaxing break where he talks on and on about his wife and all the cute little things she does. Mikoto listens intently and smiles, replying whenever he asks a question. She’s silent otherwise, trying not to wonder if Janus would have spoken of her like that, had things turned out differently. 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


At dawn, the caravan leaves the town. They travel non-stop until the sun is directly overhead. Only then do they take a break at the edge of a lake. Food is passed around, and some of the men go hunting. The women stand by with bows and arrows in case they’re attacked by ruffians, though it’s unlikely at this time of day.

Mikoto wanders to the lake in search of freshwater crabs. There’s bound to be a few big enough for a decent meal, but all she finds are frogs and dragonflies. As they’re currently closer to the south, the lakes aren’t frozen in comparison to the ones up north. Even so, the water chills her feet, a cold tingling up her spine. 

“Oh, come on. I’m sure you’re around here somewhere.” She takes off her sandals and dips into the water, tying her woven skirt around her thighs so it doesn’t get wet. “I promise your death will be painless. It’ll be cruel otherwise—ah, there!” 

She shoots her arm into the muck, and pulls out a large crab. It tries to snap at her with its pincers. “None of that, now.” Mikoto drops it into her basket with a small, ‘sorry’. 

A faint ringing buzzes below, almost like a stunted bell. Her feet are outlined in blue, and she gasps, holding her breath. “Wh—o-oh. _Oh._ ” She jumps out of the water, holding the basket close. “That’s right. I can’t… I shouldn’t…” 

_Because then he’ll find me._  

“You seem troubled,” a voice says from behind her. 

Mikoto jumps and whirls around, brandishing the basket in front of her for defense. The man laughs and— “ _Sumeragi?_ ”

“Oh,” the king smiles, crossing his arms, “have we met somewhere before?” 

_That’s right; he doesn’t remember me. Doesn’t remember anything._  

“No, it’s just—I’ve heard—well I travel for my village. To trade.” She lowers the basket to her hip. “And so I’ve heard about your majesty. And such. From other villagers along the way.” 

He hums. “I see. Well, I hope I’m not interrupting.” 

“Not at all. I was just looking for some crabs, but the water is a little unnerving.” 

Sumeragi chuckles. “Too many tall tales about lakes, is that it?” 

“Y-Yes. Sounds silly, doesn’t it?” 

The king says nothing, only continues to smile at her. Unnerved by his attention, she asks, “What are you doing so far away from the castle? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

“Oh, we’re actually returning from Nohr.” He holds out a hand. “I didn’t mean to startle you; my apologies. Would it help if you met Queen Ikona? She can calm any nerves with just her smile.”

“She’s—She’s here?” 

Mikoto’s little group of villagers spend the afternoon with the king and queen. Their retainers are close by, ever watchful. But the royals themselves are friendly, and the villagers are excited to finally meet them in person. The lunch is plentiful, even more so when the hunters come back with the game they managed to kill. They almost drop the boar in the process after seeing the Hoshidan emblem on the flag stuck into the ground. 

Though neither Sumeragi nor Ikona can remember her, Mikoto values their company all the same. She holds back her tears, not wanting to rouse suspicion of why she’s even sad in the first place. Will they ever remember her? If Anankos is defeated, will all the memories of Valla be restored to the land? Will even a semblance of her old life ever return? 

“And what about you, Mikoto?” Ikona asks with a gentle smile. “You haven’t said much for a whole hour.” 

“I… don’t have much to say, milady.”

“I’m sure that’s not true. Your herb and fungi stories were wonderful. Do you have any children?”

“Just one: Kamui, my daughter. She’s only an infant, so I’m eager to get back to her. Her father isn’t, and will never, be there in her life.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” 

“No, it’s alright. Honest.”

One of Sumeragi’s retainers, Saizo the Fourth, whispers something to the king. He nods, and says, “Yes, well I suppose we should get going.” He stands and helps Ikona rise. “We best be on our way. We’d like to make it to a town before nightfall.” 

The villagers offer to help the royal guard clean up the site, but they politely decline. She shouldn’t be surprised that they’re keeping complete strangers at arm’s length from the king and queen. But Sumeragi is skilled with the Raijinto blade, and even if there happens to be an attack right now, she doubts he’d be given even the tiniest scratch.

“Don’t mind them,” he says, just as Ikona is escorted into her carriage. “They’ve all been like this since our return from Nohr. But I can assure you Shirasagi is welcoming. If you’re ever in the mood, I highly recommend the trip there.” 

“Was it really so bleak? Nohr, I mean.” 

He’s silent, staring off at the grass beneath his finely polished boots. “While the land there is indeed overcast almost all year, that isn’t why my guards are so tightly wound. We went for a funeral, you see.” 

“A funeral?” 

Sumeragi nods. “Queen Katerina died. Was murdered, actually, by one of the king’s concubines. They couldn’t find—” 

The air around her is silent, a high pitch ringing in her ears. No, that can’t be right. Katerina is powerful. She’d never fall to… No, she has to be alive. Garon loves her above all other women—she was the light of Nohr itself. Little Alexander adores his mother. She wouldn’t leave him, of all people—this can’t be the reality. It just _can’t._  

“Mikoto?”

“I, um,” she blinks, shaking her head, “I’m sorry.”

“You’re white as a sheet.” 

“It’s just…,” she swallows, “I can’t fathom ever visiting Nohr, knowing that its queen isn’t even safe.”

“The land isn’t all bad, though I have to say I much prefer our side of the continent for a variety of reasons.” Sumeragi climbs into the carriage. “May you have a safe journey back home, Mikoto.” 

“Thank you, your majesty. Take care of yourselves too.” 

After they leave, her own little caravan follows their example and heads off in the opposite direction. 

She doesn’t speak for the rest of the day. Her companions ask if she’s alright, and she assures them it’s simply fatigue. Mikoto stays quiet for the majority of the return trip home, though. It isn’t until they stop at the last village for the night that she finally allows herself to cry underneath the covers of the futon. She puts a hand to her mouth, hoping it’ll help stifle her sobs. 

_Oh Katerina. My dear friend. If this is what the future holds, is there really any hope at all?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was somewhat longer than usual, but I hope that's not too much of a problem! I'm trying to keep each of these chapters a considerably decent word length. I don't want them too long; I know the more formal language choice I've picked for the narrative might be a bit tough to get through compared to something more modernly casual.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	13. XIII

Mikoto is composed by the time they reach the village again. She lets out a weary sigh as she rides her horse to Kiyo’s home. The woman is standing outside, drying the laundry. A frown creases her features, until she looks up and sees Mikoto approaching. 

“You’re back!” She sets the laundry down and helps lead the horse to where it usually rests at the back of the house. “Did you get ‘em?” 

“Two of them, actually, so I don’t have to keep leaving.” Mikoto hops off the horse and slings the bag of her provisions over her shoulder. “Let’s go fix Daichi’s wounds, yes?” 

Kiyo nods enthusiastically before leading her inside. 

Mikoto works quickly once she’s by Daichi’s side. His leg has swollen where the bone broke. Kiyo listens to the instructions that Mikoto gives, preparing everything as she speaks. Rolling up her sleeves, she says to the man, “I’m going to assume you’ve never had magic heal you before, right?” 

“No,” he replies in a groan. 

“Then this might feel strange. Usually, people with an affinity for magic can take being healed with it rather well. Everyone else, well, let’s just hope for the best.” 

She doesn’t give him time to complain when she hovers the stave over him. It glows with a warm light as Mikoto runs her hand up and down his leg. “This might hurt for a second,” she warns, before forcefully pushing down on the bone fracture. 

Daichi screams, and Kiyo comes running into the room with a bowl of water. “What happened?!” 

“He’s healing,” Mikoto says, and Daichi shoots her a look. “Magic only speeds up the body’s natural healing process. Wounds and such don’t just go away with a flick of the wrist.” 

“If you’re tryin’ to kill me…,” Daichi warns. 

“Then you’d be dead by now,” Mikoto replies coolly. “And I’d know how to make it look like an accident.” 

With a grunt, he closes his eyes and lets her continue her work. Kiyo listens intently as Mikoto explains every last step of what she’s doing. She instructs Kiyo to help hold limbs in place so she can shove the bones back where they belong. The ribs take the longest to heal, but after an excruciating hour, Mikoto sets the rod down. 

“That should do it.” She wipes her brow, and hands Kiyo a jar of salve. “Continue to spread this on his healing wounds and above where the bones had fractured. He should be able to walk around in a few days. No arduous labor though.” Mikoto gives Daichi a look. “Considering you’re still well, I’m assuming that your body and spirit can handle being healed by magic. That’s good to know.” 

“Yeah….” 

Kiyo smiles through a sob. “Bless you Mikoto. Thank you, thank you.”

She gives a tired nod in return before heading back to her small little room. 

Mikoto slumps onto her futon, watching Kamui nap in her crib. She’s wearing a new outfit. Kiyo probably made it for her, or she had somebody make it. 

“I’ve missed you, my little one,” she whispers, placing a kiss on Kamui’s head. “But I’m here now, and I don’t think I’ll be leaving again anytime soon.” 

In the days that follow, Mikoto spends her time making more salves and teas that’ll help Daichi heal quicker. She also shares with Kiyo certain dishes that’ll contribute to his health and further shorten his healing time. With Kiyo preferring to stay at home to watch over her husband, Mikoto takes her place in the hunting parties. She has no skill helping with the rice paddies, and would rather save herself the embarrassment. 

By the end of every trip, she manages to bring back some herbs or fungi to store away in her makeshift medicine shelf. (It’s really just a large one-row cupboard underneath her wooden chest.) She also learns how to properly track and kill certain prey animals, like deer. 

“We never kill the doe,” one man says, tying its leg to a long thick branch. “Only the bucks.” 

“Why is that?”

“Bucks are bigger,” a woman replies, tying up another leg on the other side. “Plus, the doe are the ones that raise the fawns. You get no more bucks if you kill all the doe.” 

“I suppose that makes sense.” 

The others explain to her the different types of animals they hunt, like ducks and rabbits if they can’t find something bigger. On rare occasions, they resort to killing a bear or two. “But we try not to,” another says. “Those things are way too damn heavy, even heavier than the boars. We gotta cut ‘em up right then and there if we wanna bring it back to the village. Too bloody and messy. Attracts predators, like the kitsune. We don’t need ‘em following us home.” 

She can’t stand the smell as she watches them chop up the buck when they return to the village. But seeing such skilled hands and survival knowledge brings a sense of inferiority poking at the back of her mind. As a royal, she of course had known how hard the common class worked. They did everything from hunting to textile making. To see it up close, however, is definitely a marvel. They are the very foundation of civilization, and she never realized how much she appreciates them until now. 

_What was I doing all those years in the castle? What was I doing being a brat and trying to spite my sister? Villagers don’t have time or the need to be petty like that. They’re all better than I ever was, and probably will continue to be._  

Kiyo notices her ruminating later that evening when she’s storing her herbs and fungi away in jars. “Something bothering you, ‘Koto?” 

“The same thing again. Everyone here works together in such harmony; they all know how to do something useful to the community’s survival. And I don’t know any of it.” 

“Oh hush already about that,” Kiyo scolds. “Mikoto, you’re the village’s only doctor. Yeah sometimes your food is crap, and you’re kinda in the way with the rice paddies. No offense. But we wouldn’t have gotten through this winter without you. Especially Daichi.” 

Daichi glances at them from his place at the table, but otherwise says nothing. Merely eats his rice in silence. 

“Besides,” adds Kiyo, “you were forced into doing that awful stuff at the whore house. Sometimes we don’t get to choose certain things that happen to us. It’s unfair and it sucks. But you got outta there, and now you’re living here, at peace and away from that shithole. Or at least, I’d like to think you’re happier here.” 

Mikoto gives her a grateful smile. “I am. Thank you, Kiyo. I’m forever indebted to you.” 

“Nah, you paid your dues by saving my idiot husband’s life. Right?” She smacks Daichi on the back. “I’m gonna take your silence as a ‘yes’.” 

“She’s already been here for months,” he comments. “What’s the use of kicking her out now that the village likes her?” 

“That’s as much thanks as you’re gonna get from him,” Kiyo says with a sigh. “But I won’t let him ever forget what you did, either.” 

Mikoto only offers another nod, before helping to wash and store all the dishes of their dinner. 

When morning comes, she gets a curious surprise as she’s preparing to head out to Itsuki’s home to check up on his wife. Daichi is already sitting at the table, a steaming cup of tea in his hands. He stares at it before quickly getting up and approaching Mikoto. 

“Hey,” he greets. 

“Good morning,” she replies. “Where’s Kiyo?” 

“Still asleep. She hates waking up on winter mornings. Too cold.” 

“Can’t say I blame her.” Mikoto bundles herself with a shawl and scarf, setting her basket on the table. “I see you’re walking normally again. Still feel sore?” 

“Not really.”

“Just don’t go chasing after boars again. Be more cautious on your next hunting trip.” 

“I will.” Daichi rubs the back of his neck, staring at the ground. “Hey, uh…,” he clears his throat, “I just wanted to say…” 

“It’s fine. I don’t expect to be thanked.” 

“No, it’s not fine. You worked hard to restore me back to health, and I’ve never felt better. Even after all the crap I said to you, you helped me anyway.”

Mikoto remains quiet for a few moments as she takes the basket in her arms. “I know you’re suspicious of me. I can understand; you don’t know me. My daughter isn’t completely human. I’m her mother, and even I don’t know what she is. You’re just looking out for your community, and I respect that.” 

“But you’re part of the community now, too.” 

“Yes, I suppose I am.” 

Daichi huffs, looking off to the side. “I’m… really sorry for treating you the way I have. You’ve done nothing to deserve it. And it isn’t your daughter’s fault that she’s… the way she is.” 

“No, it isn’t.” _It’s mine._  

“Can you find it in you to forgive me, Mikoto? I’d… like to start over, if that’s okay.” 

A part of her doesn’t want to, only to be petty. But the last time she did something out of spite, she got involved with an ancient god and more or less helped bring ruin to her kingdom. Mikoto will never let that guilt pass, but she can at least begin redeeming herself by growing from her mistakes. 

“Yes, that sounds like something I can agree to.” 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Four years have passed now, and Mikoto is still nowhere close to finding Freyja. 

Part of it is due to Katerina’s untimely demise. She was a bright light in Mikoto’s old life, like hope incarnate. Without her friend’s strength, she often wonders if it was a bad omen. It doesn’t help that she heard through other villages that Garon married some new woman a year after Katerina’s death. She wasn’t a concubine, from what Mikoto knows, but having the knowledge that old man picked a new wife so quickly soured her spirit for a few months afterward. 

Another is due to the simpler life of being among the common folk. When she’s around them, contributing to the community, she almost forgets Anankos exists. Almost. 

Kamui’s growth is the constant reminder that it’s dangerous to get too lax hiding away in some speck on the Hoshidan map. 

As a baby, rarely did anyone see her. But now as a small child, her ears are more noticeable. The canines of her teeth are sharply defined compared to everyone else’s, and her eyes are a lustrous red. Pupils like a serpent’s, as Daichi had said way back when. 

Nothing can be done about her eyes or teeth, but Mikoto makes it a point to keep Kamui’s hair long enough that it covers the top of her ears. It helps that she now has her own actual room in Kiyo’s home. Apparently Daichi being awful with verbal apologies means he’s excellent with apologizing through his actions. Ever since being healed, he worked on adding a room to the house just for Mikoto and Kamui. He’s gotten along better with her since that point, especially after she helped deliver his and Kiyo’s first child last October.

“I really can’t thank you enough,” Daichi says as he rocks his newborn daughter in his arms. “First you helped mend my bones, then you taught others in the village about medicine, and now this.” He smiles at the bundle cradled against his chest. “My little Mozume.” 

“Always happy to help,” she replies. Kamui fidgets as she brushes her hair. “Now hold still, dear. I have to get these knots out.”

“But you pull on it…,” Kamui mumbles. 

“Well whose fault is it for roughhousing with the other children near the pig pen? Tell me.” Kamui pouts, and picks at a seam on her dress. “That’s what I thought.” 

“Roughhousing builds muscle,” Daichi points out. “Don’t let your mama discourage you.” 

“Encouraging her will bring no good,” Mikoto replies. 

The dragonstone Janus had given her still sits in a box, hidden away even from Kiyo. Further proof her child isn’t normal. Non-human. Mikoto can see it in the way Kamui plays, the way she interacts with the world. It’s childish innocence, but also feral curiosity, like that of a dog. Once she caught her daughter eating a grasshopper. Instantly she had Kamui promptly spit it back out before anyone else saw. 

She’ll never be fully human, and never truly fit in. The dragonstone was given to her for a reason. Only in the tall tales did half-dragon people exist. She remembers one storybook where they were called ‘manaketes’. But as far as Mikoto knows, only wolfskin and kitsune are known to be half-human hybrids with the ability to transform at will. She doubts either tribe would take in a dragon girl. A ‘demigod’, if Kamui can even be called that. Those, like the manaketes, only exist in fiction too. 

“Hey Mikoto,” Daichi starts, “once spring melts all the snow, we were gonna head on over to Hoshido’s capital again. Spring’s the best time to go. They’ve got lotsa cherry blossom trees. It’s almost like a dream when the pink petals blow in the breeze. Kiyo loves it, but with Mozume…” 

“A spot is now open.” Mikoto smooths out Kamui’s hair with her hand. “I suppose I can go. Kamui is old enough to travel with me, I think. And I would like to sell some of my medicines, as well as browse the shops there.” 

“Well we head on out in a few weeks, so lemme know as soon as possible if you wanna go or not.” 

“I don’t need to think twice about it.” 

Throughout the four years, Mikoto has helped teach other young girls and boys the art of healing magic. Not all of them had the same potency within their veins, but even the ones who didn’t were excellent students. There’s enough medical assistance now. Mikoto has more time to spend with Kamui and going on the trading expeditions because of it. No need to worry about leaving the village feeble anymore. 

And so at the end of March, the group makes their long journey to the kingdom’s capital. Mikoto is ever watchful of both Kamui and the earthenwares Kiyo asked her to sell. It takes a good week and a half for them to reach the city. Dawn graces the sky when they arrive, and shopkeepers are the only ones on the street. Nostalgia echoes in the back of her mind as she passes by the blooming blossoms and the decorative flowing brooks. The smells and chirping birds are respectively savory and joyous. Yet all she can think of is its inevitable destruction, should the sands of time run out on her. 

“Hey,” Daichi snaps his fingers in front of her, “why the long face? We’re finally here.” 

“Sorry. Just—well, I never thought I’d see a place like this in all my life.” 

He only grunts in response before unloading the caravan. They’ve stopped at a small storefront, apparently owned by an elderly man Daichi knows. He directs them where to put all their wares, and leads the horses around the back to store them away. 

“We take shifts selling stuff,” Itsuki says, dusting off the counter. “That way everyone has a chance to explore.” 

“And where does everyone sleep? The cart?” 

“Nah. There’s some rooms up top, one for the men, and the other for the women. Old Timer lets us use his shop every time we visit so long as we give him some of our proceeds. He does that with a lot of other villagers who sell like we do.” 

Mikoto gets the good fortune of being one of the first to explore the city, with Daichi and a few others keeping watch of the shop. Kamui stays at her side, holding tightly onto her hand. Itsuki offers to be their tour guide, and Mikoto lets him, despite already knowing where everything is.

Kamui smiles too much at everything. That would be a normal thing children do, except Mikoto can’t help but worry somebody might notice her teeth, or stare too long at her eyes. Itsuki is none the wiser, already showing Kamui the different food vendors and game booths. 

“Perhaps we should return to the shop,” Mikoto says. 

“Why? Your daughter’s having fun. Aren’t you, little tyke?” 

Enthusiastically she nods, munching on a steamed bun filled with pork and vegetables. “Yup! Mama, can we go win a fish? I saw some,” she points back where they came, “down there. One was orange like the fruit!” 

“Um, yes, when we go back around.” 

Itsuki glances at her every now and again as they browse through the shops. More and more people fill the streets until they’re bumping shoulders with strangers. Mikoto keeps a firm grip on Kamui’s hand, feeling the sweat slip between their fingers. She holds her breath the entire way back to the shop and when Itsuki is winning her the goldfish. Once Kamui scurries upstairs to play with her new pet, Mikoto slumps down on a chair. 

“Everything alright?” Itsuki asks, taking over the shift for Daichi so the latter can have time to browse himself. “It’s like Kamui was meant to be tied around your waist or something.” 

Mikoto doesn’t reply, only stares at the floorboards. After the fourth customer, Itsuki says, “Come help me with this. More people are wandering the streets. Don’t you wanna advertise your medicine?” 

“Yes, yes I should, shouldn’t I? That’s why I came.” She wipes her hands on her skirt before joining him behind the counter. “What do I do?” 

“Well usually we just like, shout about the things we sell. My wife makes textiles, so like I’d shout at passerby about our stuff. Like, ‘We’ve got blankets and shawls! Come get ‘em here!’ and things like that.” 

She has seen this done before on her past trips to Hoshido. But actually advertising and convincing people to buy their things is a whole other matter entirely. Half of the morning crowd completely passes their shop. The other half either only browses, or asks about prices. Mikoto manages to sell three of her personalized medicines, but there are still so many vials left on the shelves. Kiyo’s pottery too. 

There’s no use in being pessimistic, so she does her best trying to be a good merchant. “We have textiles! ****” she shouts, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Earthenwares, medicine and more! Come take a look!” Itsuki smiles at her and joins in on the noise until others look their way.

Mikoto owes her life to these people, and so she’s going to do her best to help them however she can.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Afternoon brings fairer fortune. The crowd has grown to its peak, she thinks, with enough ruckus to wake a god. Maybe now they’ll sell more wares. 

“Is something going on?” she asks Itsuki. 

“Probably the royal family’s passing through. They like to socialize with the people during the festivals, from what I hear.” He smiles at her. “Don’t worry though. Our shop isn’t right smack dab in the middle of the main street, so I doubt we’ll endure their almighty presence.” 

“They’re only people, like everyone else.” 

“Yeah I know. But last time we met them,” he wipes his forehead, “I thought I was gonna faint right then and there. Like you know I can’t look people in the eye if they’re attractive. With royalty, it’s even worse….” 

Mikoto chuckles. “You’ll survive if it happens again.” 

“If I don’t, tell my family I love them.” 

“Oh stop.” 

Half an hour passes, and Itsuki excuses himself to rest upstairs. Kamui wanders down and sits on a stool, eating a slice of peach that one of the women had given her. “This tastes better than the ones at home,” she comments, licking her fingers of juice. 

“Some breeds of peaches are grown only for Shirasagi,” Mikoto explains. “And the biggest, juiciest, pinkest peaches are for the royal family only. Same thing with oranges and a lot of other fruits and vegetables.” 

“They’re so lucky….” 

Mikoto pats her head. “Oh, it’s alright, love.” She takes a napkin and wipes Kamui’s mouth. “We need to be thankful for any little thing that we get, even if it’s not fancy. You get to eat every day, right?” Kamui nods. “Then that’s all that matters.” 

“Hey, you sell chocolate here?” 

“No,” she turns around to the voice, “I’m afraid we don’t.” At the counter is a young boy, a few years older than Kamui. Maybe about age 9 if she has to guess. He barely reaches the top standing on his tip toes. 

“This sucks,” he huffs out, pouting. “ _Nobody_ sells chocolate. That’s the _only_ sweet thing I like to eat.” The boy has a mess of brown hair, the locks falling together almost in spike shapes. His curious dark brown eyes scan the store, and land on Kamui. He tilts his head, asking, “Why’re her eyes weird?” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah, like,” he scratches a line in the wood counter with his fingernail, “like that. Like a lizard’s.” 

“I don’t know,” she lies.

“ _There_ you are.” 

A man in drab clothing comes up to the boy, and takes his hand. “Let’s get going. Your mother is waiting for you.” 

“What?” The boy tries to tug his hand free. “My moth—let go!” 

“Is that any way to speak to your father?” He quickly ushers him down an alleyway. “Come now she’ll start dinner soon.” 

“Hey, hey wait! No! Let go!” And they’re gone before Mikoto can get another word in. 

Children usually look like their parents, but either the man’s face is too old, or the boy looks more like his mother. She shrugs and wipes down the counter. They really do need to sell at least half of their inventory for the trip to have been worthwhile. 

Mikoto glances around, and Kamui is still there, eating her peach. _I’m never letting her out of my sight. She could easily get lost just like that boy. Or kidnapped._  

“Wait a moment…” 

Maybe it’s maternal instincts, or the boy’s confused expression by the man who led him away. Perhaps it was his obvious struggling that she was a fool to not have noticed earlier. “Kamui, go back upstairs.” 

“But why—” 

“Just go, please.” Mikoto hurries to the second floor, leaving Kamui in her room and quickly telling the others she’s going on a break. Grabbing her bow and quiver, she rushes through the alleyway. There’s no sign of the man and the boy once she’s out on the street. All the faces melt together in the daylight, and a pain shoots in the back of her head. “Ugh, no, not right now, please. I haven’t even said his name or anything about that place….” 

Mikoto closes her eyes, gripping her forehead. The edges are fuzzy and white, like frost. But she sees the boy and the man jump into a random cart near the edge of the city. He ties a cloth around the boy’s mouth while another man tells him to hurry up so they can get going. 

_Oh, this is… yes, what Janus gave me…._  

She hurries to the edge of the city, searching for the building she saw. Her headache lessens to a slight throbbing, and soon enough finds the man heading toward the cart from her mindscape. Mikoto reaches back to her quiver and pulls out an arrow. She aligns it on her bow, and shoots one through the fabric of the caravan. 

“What the—” 

“That was a warning.” She mounts another arrow into the bow. “I won’t miss next time. It’ll be just like hunting a buck.” 

“Look lady,” the man says, holding the boy close, “you don’t wanna give us trouble. Would be a waste of a pretty little thing like yourself.” 

“Hey what’s taking so—,” the other man from the front of the cart spots the scene, and pulls out a weathered naginata. “Don’t try it, woman.” 

Mikoto says nothing, only keeps the arrow pulled back. The boy is of some importance, otherwise they wouldn’t be sneaking around through the backways of the city. Perhaps a noble of some sort is visiting, and these cravens want to hold him for ransom.

The horse’s tail swats at a fly, and Mikoto shoots the arrow near its hoof. The beast neighs in a panic and scurries off, leaving the two men cursing loudly. “Beautiful animals they are,” she comments. “It’s a shame that they’re simply several hundred pounds of anxious muscle too.” 

“You come any closer,” the older one removes a knife from his robes and holds it up to the boy’s neck, “the kid dies.” 

“No, you wouldn’t.” She takes another arrow from her quiver, slowly playing with it between her fingers. “He’s important. You wouldn’t go through all this trouble otherwise.”

The second man chuckles. He swings his naginata to rest over his shoulder. “You’re right; he’s pretty damn vital. But what’ll they say if we kill him right here, with you standing over his body as we escape?” 

He swerves the weapon toward the boy, and stops just before his abdomen. The boy’s eyes widen in fear as he stares down at the bronze blade. “We can gut him, and then flee.” 

“I won’t let you escape.” 

“Then he dies. Either you give him medical attention, _or_ , you catch us and let him bleed to death, choking on his own blood. Imagine, the last thing he sees is all his slimy pink guts just spilling out of him. Crying for his mommy and daddy.” 

Mikoto grips the arrow in her hand. She hasn’t forgotten her training from Valla, but she’s never had to actually use it in combat. Not like Freyja. Tears prick at the corners of the boy’s eyes as he struggles within their grasp. She can shoot the man holding him, but then the other will just impale the boy. There’s always the option of walking away. This isn’t her child—it’s not her business. 

But if that were Kamui, she’d fight tooth and nail to save her. This boy is just as innocent. 

“You wouldn’t kill him,” she repeats, aiming again at the offenders. “You went to all this trouble to time your kidnapping. You’ll gain nothing by dying or having him killed.” 

The first man visibly swallows, but he keeps his weapon poised at the boy’s throat. He tries to back away with him, and Mikoto says, “You do that and I’ll shoot you.” 

“What’re you gonna do if I use this kid as a shield?” 

“You would neither dare, nor would you have time, filth.” 

“Wanna bet?” 

Mikoto bites her lip, and tries to keep her hand steady. Nobody is around; too distracted with the festivities at the center of the city. Only her quick thinking will save the boy. That, or strikingly good fortune in the nick of time.

“She ain’t shit,” the younger man says. “Let’s just get out of here.” He grins mockingly, backing away from her. They drag the struggling boy with him, his pleads for help muffled by their arms. 

_Gods above, forgive me if this goes terribly wrong._  

The arrow soars from the bow, and the man cries out as it lodges itself in his right shoulder. He drops the knife and the boy rushes away. The other man charges after him with the naginata raised, and Mikoto dashes forward. She slips out a casting scroll from her sleeve, fanning out the separate parts in her hand. The thin rectangular wooden pieces quickly align themselves vertically into a hovering circle in front of her, aiming at the man. Below her in a white light, symbols within a pentagon glow as she summons the spirit from within. 

“What the hell is—,” he’s knocked on his feet as an ethereal rat zips past him and turns around, slamming into his chest. He’s thrown back into a bundle of crates. One of them smashes from his impact and buries him in beans. 

“I told you,” Mikoto says. The scroll continues to spin idly in the air, waiting for another instruction, “you won’t escape.” 

_No longer will I be sitting on my rear. This boy won’t pay the price Valla did for my ignorance._  

“Enough.” 

She stops in her tracks as a kunai is held at her throat. Mikoto flicks her wrist and the symbols stop glowing, the pieces of the scroll filing back into her grasp. She recognizes the voice as Saizo the Forth’s, Sumeragi’s retainer. But why would he be here? 

Mikoto puts her hands up, and Saizo takes the scroll from her. “What’s a commoner doing with a weapon like this?” Other ninja are apprehending the defeated felons, tying up their limbs. 

“I’m from a small village,” she begins. “We come to the capital to trade and sell twice a year. The journey is long, and you can never be too careful. But I don’t use it unless I have to.”

“Commoners don’t usually have innate magic abilities. Healing, perhaps, but not the mental fortitude to summon from _this._ ” He waves her Rat scroll in front of her. “Impressive display of control, but the fallback is suspicion of your true intentions.” 

“I noticed a boy being kidnapped. That is all.” 

“ _A_ boy?” 

“…Yes?” 

He grunts, and pulls out a rope to bind her wrists. “Excuse m—what are you—?!” 

“You have the audacity to flaunt your magical prowess to save _a_ boy. As far as I know, only onmyoji, healers, and the shrine residents dedicate themselves to the art.” 

“I have a daughter younger than him,” she clarifies. “As a mother, I couldn’t just let him get hurt. Or are you suggesting that I simply let him get kidnapped?” 

Saizo has never been too friendly. In her old life, he’d address her with the utmost formality and respect. Oftentimes he’d come to Gyges as a messenger for Sumeragi or Ikona. He is the definition of a model retainer, and Sumeragi couldn’t have been luckier. 

Unfortunately, that leaves him with little social etiquette when not addressing royalty or nobility.

“That boy is the _crown prince_ , you foolish woman.” 

“R-Ryoma?” 

“Don’t speak his name as if he were your neighbor! It’s _Lord_ Ryoma. The young master deserves only respect. To do any less is disrespect against the king himself.” 

_Is that really little Ryo? I didn’t recognize him. He’s grown so big…._  

Mikoto is taken into custody alongside the two felons. Her bow and scroll are kept confiscated, and she spends a good several hours in a prison cell underneath the castle. This isn’t how she wanted her first trip to the capital to go. She needs to get back to Kamui. Is her child stressed? Is she crying for her mother? What if she transforms in her absence, and nobody is there to help her? Mikoto hadn’t told anyone where she keeps the dragonstone, and she doubts Daichi or Itsuki would know what to look for. 

“Your presence is required,” says a voice from outside the cell. It’s another ninja, though one she doesn’t know by name. Mikoto is led out of the prison and up through a corridor specifically for criminals. She’s blindfolded as a security measure. Only when they reach the throne room is she allowed to see. 

Sumeragi is there with Ikona, holding onto her hand. The woman’s stomach is noticeably plump, even with her thick kimono hiding it. Mikoto can only assume she’s due for birth very soon. Next to them are Ryoma and Hinoka, though the last time she saw the latter, the girl was just an infant. Two years younger than her brother. There is also a third child, about as old as Kamui. A boy with silver hair reaching up to the middle of his ears. 

Her blood boils, though she tries to keep herself calm. Ninja take no nonsense, and she’ll be slain before she even realizes she was ever angry. _I’ve missed so much because of… him._

The king watches her, still and silent. “Your face looks familiar,” he starts. 

She’s nudged to reply by the ninja. “It’s incredible that you remember me at all, your majesty. My neighbors and I had met you a few years ago, back at a lake. You and the queen were returning from Nohr, from the funeral of Queen Katerina.” 

“Oh,” Ikona gasps, “you’re Mikoto. The sole healer of your village, from what I recall.” 

With a slight smile, she nods. “Yes. It’s an honor to be remembered. Although much has changed since then. I’ve taught medicine to some of my neighbors. Should something happen to me, they can at least tend to each other.” 

Mikoto isn’t given any more time to chit chat. She’s interviewed in the throne room, head bowed. She’s asked what is her purpose for being in the capital, how she knows to wield a summoning scroll, where she got it, if she has any affiliation with the two men—all routine questions she answers loudly and calmly. She has nothing to hide. (Except about anything related to Valla, but she thinks she does a pretty good job of fabricating the history of her new identity.)

Saizo whispers something to Sumeragi, and he nods, stroking his beard. Ikona murmurs a response, and her husband pats her hand. “Very well,” he starts, addressing Mikoto. “We’ve now heard your accounts, and have decided that the punish—” 

“You’re gonna _kill her?_ ” Ryoma remarks, eyes wide. “But Father, I told you that she helped me! She was that lady who didn’t have any chocolate! And has that weird kid with the red eyes! Don’t kill her! She was nice to me and tried to save me!” 

“Ryoma,” Sumeragi gives him a stern glance, “you know not to talk out of turn. And I never said she was going to be condemned to death.”

“But you said the other two guys had to be punished like that.” 

Sumeragi closes his eyes and rubs his temple. Ikona looks to her own retainer and says, “Yuugiri, please take Ryoma to the kitchens for a snack. Hinoka and Takumi too.” 

“Of course, milady.” Yuugiri bows, and escorts the children out. Ryoma pouts and complains, Hinoka comments about some red bean treat she wants, and Takumi obediently takes Yuugiri’s hand and allows himself to be led away. They’re too young to understand still, and Mikoto can only assume Sumeragi is trying to teach them early about the duties of their class. 

“Apologies for the interruption,” Sumeragi says. “My son has yet to learn when the right moment is to speak up about certain things.” 

“He’s a child; it’s understandable.” 

Ikona stands, wobbling a bit as guard rushes to help her. She holds out a halting hand, giving a glance that says she’s fine on her own. “Mikoto,” she begins, hiding her hands in her sleeves, “we believe your accounts. While you are not condemned to any terrible fate, you understand the caution we must take with any threats against the crown. You said you have a child, correct?” 

“Yes, my daughter Kamui.” 

“And where is she now?” 

“…She’s at the shop my village uses to store our wares when we come up here.” She swallows, and attempts to appease to Ikona’s maternal instincts. “I can’t leave her by herself for a long time. If left unsupervised—my daughter is highly curious to the point where she’ll eat things she’s not supposed to. I can’t—” 

“Don’t worry, I understand.” The queen looks to the ninja guarding Mikoto, and says, “Escort this woman back to her shop. Please have her pick up her things, and her daughter. Then return with her immediately.” 

“Yes, your majesty,” they say in unison, before dragging Mikoto away and out of the castle.

She has never known the Hoshidan crown to be cruel, and so she can only pray what awaits her spares Kamui any suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha, how many of you guessed that Kiyo and Daichi were actually Mozu's parents? I'm trying to tie in as many canon characters into the story as I can. Some have more important roles to play than others, but in this 3-part novelization of _Fates_ , I'm going to try to give importance to characters who were only part of the supporting cast in the canon. Or at the very least, show them more often. We'll see how well that turns out.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	14. XIV

Perhaps the gods wish to laugh at her expense, because Mikoto meets Daichi and Itsuki at the shop. They stare at the ninja beside her. “Who is in charge of this expedition?” one of them asks. 

Reluctantly, Daichi approaches. “I am.” The guard hands him a scroll. Daichi unfurls it and scans its contents. “Damn it Mikoto, what the hell did you do? ‘Their majesties request the subject be detained until—’,” he murmurs under his breath as he reads, “what the— _kidnapping?_ Of the crown _prince?_ ” He curses under his breath and gives her a mild glare. “Your first trip up here and you’ve gotten yourself arrested. I can’t take you _anywhere._ ” 

It’s at this moment she regrets teaching him how to read. 

Daichi complies (hesitantly) with the royal guard and has Mikoto’s things collected. Kamui rushes to her and clings to her long skirt, gazing up at the ninja curiously. She says nothing, and hides behind her mother. “This is your child?” one of the guards asks. 

“Yes, this is Kamui.” 

“Very well.” He nods to Daichi. “Until this is resolved, your companion cannot return to your village. If you’d like to make an appeal, please request an audience with the king or queen.” 

“We were supposed to leave in two days.” 

“That should be enough time for their royal majesties to decide what must be done. Until then, carry on with your work.” 

Itsuki gives Mikoto a grim look, and Daichi only shakes his head. She doesn’t pay them anymore mind as she’s dragged out of the shop and taken back to the castle. 

“Mama,” Kamui begins, “where are we going? Why are we leaving Uncle ‘Chi and Uncle ‘Suki? Mama?” 

“Hush now, Kamui.” She keeps her close, rubbing a soothing hand along her child’s arm. “We’re… going to be staying somewhere else for a while.” 

“Oh, and then we can go home?” 

“…Maybe.” 

They’re escorted back to the throne room and Mikoto is made to kneel again. Kamui mimics her and glances up at the high ceiling. She blinks as she gazes around the large room. Sunlight filters through the top, brightening the vivid reds, blues, whites, and golds of the architecture. “Pretty!” 

Sumeragi and Ikona descend from the dais, their retainers close by. One of the ninja reports to them about their conversation with Daichi. “I see. Thank you for your diligence.” Sumeragi nods, and then adds, “While they seem harmless enough, do watch over their shop until they’re to return back to their village.” 

“They have nothing to do with this,” Mikoto defends. “I was the only one who got involved. Please, they’re just simple farmers who—” 

“You were not asked to speak,” snaps Saizo, giving her a glare. 

Ikona clears her throat. “Don’t fret, Mikoto. Your friends won’t be harmed. Interviewed, perhaps. But that’s all that will occur. You have my word.” She places a hand over her heart, and offers a smile. Ikona glances at Kamui, whose eyes still wander around the grand throne room. “This is your daughter?” 

“Yes.” 

“…How curious.” 

Off to the side Sumeragi speaks with more of the guards, and then Mikoto is led away once again. While she’s not taken back to a prison cell, she and Kamui are kept in a windowless room somewhere on the ground floor of the castle. The guards tell her it’s nothing personal; the king and queen simply need to meet with their council first on what to do with her. 

_Haven’t I proved my innocence already?_ She strokes Kamui’s hair as the girl naps beside her on the makeshift cot. _I don’t want to harm Ryoma, or any of them. They’re like family to me._ She closes her eyes, and bites back a spat. _Though I guess that’s yet another thing they’ll never remember, isn’t it?_

The room has only one bed for her and Kamui. In a corner is a washing basin, and next to it is a boxed bench, presumably for defecating in. She doesn’t know how long she’ll be staying in this room, but at least she’s allotted one paper lamp and a small dresser for her belongings. 

Mikoto wraps her arms around Kamui, continuously stroking her head. She hopes her friends have the common sense to just leave. They don’t have the money to make an appeal, and even if they did, she doubts they’d know what to do without somebody’s (her) experienced help. 

She sleeps her troubles away until a knock wakes her. It’s followed by the clattering of keys. In walks Yuugiri, holding a tray of steaming food. Mikoto had never known her well. Maybe it’s their difference in maturity; Yuugiri is closer to Sumeragi’s age than Ikona’s, and Mikoto is closer in age to the queen. All she knows is that the woman is an incredibly devoted retainer, and a skilled, lethal fighter. (The big X-shaped scar above the bridge of her nose says volumes.) It takes a lot of practice and strength to fly atop a Pegasus. Even more so atop a Kinshi bird while wielding a bow. Yuugiri is the best Kinshi knight Mikoto has ever seen, and she has always been grateful to have never been on the wrong end of her arrows. 

“The queen sent me down here to deliver this food for you,” she says with a smile. “I know this place isn’t ideal, but it’s better than a prison cell.” 

“Yes, that’s an upside.” 

Yuugiri lights the candle within the lamp, shaking the small match stick to dissipate. “I was also told to relay information regarding your… predicament.” 

“I mean the crown no harm,” Mikoto says yet again. “I was only trying to help a boy. If that were my son, I couldn’t even begin to imagine the grief of losing him. I didn’t even know he was the young lord.” 

The retainer hums, flicking her navy locks out of the way as she sets the food off the tray. “Well, I suppose that’s reasonable. You’re not from around here, and the children aren’t taken away from the capital except on rare occasions.” Yuugiri clasps her hands together. “I will return in exactly one hour to retrieve the dishware. As for my message, the council is still debating on what to do with you. They believe you weren’t with those two bags of filth. But your technique and skill using weapons isn’t normal for a mere villager. Especially with magic.” 

Unlike Nohr and its surrounding provinces, citizens of Hoshido aren’t allowed to have weapons. Or at least, not army-grade ones. But what was she to do? If somebody needs help, and she’s able, there’s no reason why she shouldn’t assist. It’s one of the things she has been constantly told by her father and Freyja. 

“Your daughter, too, is cause for concern.” At this, Mikoto looks up at the woman. Gone is the comforting, maternal smile. “When they reviewed your belongings, they found a dragonstone. Only those with dragon blood can unearth them. It’s clear you’re human, but Kamui—who is her father?” 

“If I knew, I would have said already,” she replies calmly. 

The woman stares at her in silence, and then walks to the door. “I’ll return within an hour. Please finish your food by then. I brought enough for both of you.” She leaves the room without another word, the lock echoing off the stone walls. 

Mikoto wakes up Kamui to eat. The girl scarfs down her food happily, though asks a lot of questions about where they are and why it’s so dark. Mikoto has no definite answers. “Just eat your food, love,” she replies every time. 

As promised, Yuugiri returns to retrieve the tray some while later. She informs they’re to stay in that room, and bids them a good night. She’ll return the next day to bring more food. 

“It’s dark,” Kamui mumbles, cuddling up next to her mother once the lamp is out. “And it smells a lot like dirt.” 

“We’ll be out of here soon.” 

“Like, tomorrow?” 

Mikoto places a kiss on top of her head, and tucks her in beside her. “Good night, Kamui.” 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


They’re not let out until what she assumes is the next morning. Sunlight filters in through the wooden hallways from the paper panels as infantry guards escort her to the throne room. When she gets there, she’s surprised to see Daichi, Itsuki, and three of her other friends speaking with Sumeragi. Ikona is absent, maybe still asleep. 

“—and I don’t know what she did, your majesty,” Daichi says, “but Mikoto ain’t a criminal. We would’ve chased her out otherwise.” 

Sumeragi spots Mikoto and waves to the guards to bring her forward. “Your friends here have been vouching for you since the break of dawn. I wasn’t even up yet.” 

“You really didn’t have to,” she says to them. “Please, this is my fault. You shouldn’t have to fight for—” 

“Kiyo would never forgive me if I just sat on my ass and did nothing,” Daichi retorts. “One thing you _still_ haven’t realized is that you’re not just part of a community, but a family. You don’t abandon family. That’s not how we work.” 

“Daichi…” 

“Please, milord,” Itsuki asks, clasping his hands together in pleading, “we’ll pay for her release if we have to.” 

“There’s no need for that.” Sumeragi rises from his throne and walks toward them. The guards hold firm onto their naginata. “But she cannot return with you to the village. Now, or ever again.” 

Mikoto’s heart sinks, and she grips Kamui’s hand. “I have done—King Sumeragi, I didn’t know that was your son. I was just doing what I thought was right. I know I’d want somebody to save my own child if I was unware she was being kidnapped.” 

Sumeragi focuses on her silently, before saying to Daichi, “Mikoto isn’t under arrest, and she’s currently not at risk of any mortal punishment. But she possesses skills we cannot just overlook.” 

Daichi sets his jaw. “I didn’t take you as somebody who’d keep mistresses, your grace.” A kunai is held against his throat the minute the words leave his mouth. He swallows, but doesn’t move or apologize for his slight. 

“You want to repeat that?” Saizo snarls. 

“I told them,” Daichi says, addressing Mikoto, “of how you came to us—what you used to do before. The castle’s got plenty of healers, servants, and soldiers. Don’t see why they’d wanna keep you otherwise. Sorry, ‘Koto.” 

Her cheeks flare. “I know your intention was in the right place, but there’s also a proper way to _say_ things, Dai….” 

“Enough.” Sumeragi steps between them, casting a glance to the man. “I’ll forgive you for that comment; I know it was spoken in distress and anger over her situation. I don’t mean to separate you from those you consider family. But her combat skill is refined to the point of suspicion, and she has a dragonstone.” He looks down at Kamui. The girl hides behind Mikoto, clutching at her skirt. 

Daichi stares at her too, and says nothing. He huffs in understanding, and Saizo takes the kunai away from his throat. “How long will she stay here?” 

“An indefinite amount of time. But I will not deprive your village of a healer, if what you say is true. As a reward for being affiliated with her good deeds, you will be given several quality rods, salves, and other medicines for your remaining healers to use, about a year’s worth.” 

“She can’t be replaced with—!,” Itsuki starts angrily, but Daichi holds him back with an arm. 

“They appreciate your generosity, Lord Sumeragi,” Mikoto quickly cuts in. Itsuki stares at her in shock, and Daichi looks away. “These tools will help them through bad weather when travel becomes dangerous.” 

Itsuki frowns. “Mikoto, you’re not serious….” 

“Our village has survived without me,” she says, placing a hand on his arm. “And I helped it grow to the point where I can be easily replaced. I’ll miss you all dearly,” she swallows the sobs threatening to surface, “but I’ll be okay, Itsuki. I’ve survived through worse. Much, _much_ worse.” She holds his hands between hers. “Take the medicine. I’ve spent three years teaching others how to heal. You guys will be alright.” Mikoto gives him a quick hug. “Good bye, Itsuki.” 

Daichi puts a hand on his shoulder. “We need to get back to the shop.” 

“Yeah…,” his gaze is cast downward, “alright. It was nice knowing you, ‘Koto.”

“Thank you for your kindness.” 

Mikoto gives her good byes to the others, and assures them she’ll be fine. With sad faces, her friends are escorted out of the throne room. Daichi is the last to leave, saying, “Take care of yourself, Mikoto.” 

“You too, Daichi. Tell Kiyo I’m sorry. I’m forever grateful to her, to you, and everyone else.” 

He nods. “I will. Thanks for… well, y’know.” 

“Of course.” 

She watches the large wooden doors close, waving good bye to people she’ll probably never see again. She doubts she’ll remember the way back to the village on her own. But she has faith they’ll be in better condition than they were before she got there that dark and lonely fateful night. 

Kamui wimpers, and Mikoto immediately brings her into her arms. “W-Why—Mama, why—are we being punished? Why did they leave? Why did they say good bye?” 

“It’ll be alright,” she kisses her forehead, “so long as I’m here.” Kamui wraps her arms around Mikoto’s neck, and buries her face there. Mikoto lifts her up into her arms, and steels herself against the scrutinizing glances of the castle staff. She says nothing to Sumeragi, or anyone else. Mikoto simply stands there, staring at the elaborate red and gold rug. 

“My intention isn’t to make you or your daughter suffer,” Sumeragi says gently, after a guard coughs awkwardly from the back of the room. “But with the way things are, Hoshido cannot let you roam around free.” 

“Your country is prosperous, and the citizens want for nothing,” she mumbles. “I’m well-liked by my village, but not to the point where I’d rally up a revolution. There’s nothing to rebel _against_ , if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“No, that’s not the issue.” Sumeragi nods to the distressed girl in her arms. “It’s your child.” 

Mikoto places a gentle hand on Kamui’s head, pressing her closer. “She’s only 4; she’s not a threat.” 

“But you have a dragonstone for a reason, do you not? And we can all see plain as day she isn’t fully human. Who is her father?” 

“That’s the funny thing with being an ex-whore kept against your will,” she starts coldly. “After a while, the men become tally marks. Then you reach a point where you stop counting. In the end, you learn to just shut up and look away until it’s over. Pretend you like it. Live for tomorrow, if only to keep the other women company from their nightmare turned reality.” 

One of the female guards frowns disturbingly, and a male guard looks away at some random point in the room, his cheeks rosy. Mikoto hates telling her lie over and over, but she’s positive it isn’t far from the truth of those horrid establishments. 

“Then I’m assuming her father gave you the stone?” Sumeragi says, ignoring her previous comments. 

“Yes. The last time he was my patron, he found out about Kamui. I never saw his face; he was always wearing a hood and part of a mask whenever I’d service him. So no, I can’t definitely say whether or not he was human or something else. Obviously, he was the latter.” 

Sumeragi strokes his beard again. “I see. Well, until we can make other arrangements, you will stay where you are. Apologies for it not being better accommodated. It hasn’t been in use for a long time.” 

Mikoto says nothing in response, and so the ninja escort her back to the room. 

In vain she tries to console Kamui about their new ‘home’, but the girl misses Daichi and Itsuki too much to care. She rambles about peaches and oranges, playing in the creek, and the sticky rice that Itsuki’s wife makes. “And I won’t see Kiyo make the pots,” she sobs, “a-and I wanted to be Mozu’s friend when she gets bigger and…” 

“I know,” Mikoto soothes, gently hushing her. “I’ll miss all of that too. But we’ll make it work here, okay? You might even make new friends.” She wipes away Kamui’s tears with her thumbs. “Your mother will keep you safe. Don’t worry, my sweet.” 

Her crying puts her to sleep, and she rests throughout most of the morning. Yuugiri visits and hands Mikoto her belongings, save for the bow and rat scroll. “I also have more food for you.” She places it on the small dresser. “My, you really need a table in here. It shouldn’t be much trouble to request one. Not much room, but I’m sure I can find something that’ll fit in here.” 

“This is fine,” Mikoto says quietly. “Thank you for the food.” She bows and then begins to eat, staring at the stone wall behind her. 

Yuugiri glances at the sleeping Kamui for a moment. “On my way from the kitchen, I overheard one of the servants talk about there being red bean mochi. I can bring Kamui one.” 

“There’s no need to trouble yourself,” Mikoto replies. “We’ll be fine with this.” 

“If that’s what you wish. And—” 

“I know: you’ll return within an hour. I’ll make sure Kamui has eaten before then, thank you.” 

She knows it’s not Yuugiri’s fault she’s in this mess. But it isn’t hers either. She has done absolutely nothing wrong; she saved the _crown prince_ for crying out loud. And had she not known Ryoma from before, Mikoto would honestly have regretted ever saving him in the first place. But it wasn’t his fault either he was targeted. He shouldn’t have to suffer because he was born into luxury. 

_Freyja would say I should be grateful, but I have every right to be upset. I couldn’t give less of a damn anymore._  

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Having no window, it’s difficult to tell how many days she’s been in the room. So she counts the number of times Yuugiri brings food. It’s only twice a day: either breakfast or lunch, and always dinner. The first meal larger than the second. The cycle goes on five times, and so she assumes she must have been in there for almost a week. Daichi and the others are likely gone by now. She hopes Kiyo doesn’t grieve too much in her absence. 

“When can I go outside?” Kamui asks one evening as Mikoto bathes her. 

“I don’t know. But it’s too dark now to go outside anyway.” 

“How do you know it’s nighttime?” 

“Because Mama has magic powers.” 

Kamui gasps. “Really?!” The lamp light nearby makes her ruby eyes sparkle. 

“Yes. I can read your mind too.” 

“Then…,” Kamui glances up at the ceiling and smiles, “what am I thinking of?” 

“Hmm, now let me see.” Mikoto scrubs her daughter’s back gently. “Oh, it’s food.” 

“But what _kind_ of food?” 

“Something sweet. Right?” 

Kamui giggles. “How did you know I was thinking of peaches?” 

Mikoto taps her nose. “Because you love them so much, silly.” 

Really, all her daughter talks about is fruit. Mostly peaches. But if she had gotten it wrong, she’d just have said her mind-reading powers only work in the daytime. 

Her smile fades as Kamui gathers up the bubbles in her hand. Is the castle so distrustful of them that this is how they’ll spend their unforeseeable future? Anankos cannot be slain if Mikoto doesn’t find Freyja. And now that she’s likely to be chained to the castle compound, supervised, Kamui will never know how to fight. Thwarting the dragon god will be useless if the only one able to kill him can’t even tell a sword from a javelin. Not that it matters anyway; the plan will only work if Freyja teaches Egeria the song. It matters even less if they’re both dead. 

_No, I can’t think like that. I have to believe they’re still alive._  

After Mikoto is done bathing Kamui, she brushes out her hair and gets her ready for bed. With no books around, she resorts to making up a tale to put her to sleep. Well, not really a tale. It’s from one of her favorite novels back in Valla. Mikoto makes sure to leave out any violent or sexual points from the plot, and waters it down to something her daughter can hold onto whenever she’s lonely. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, once Kamui is fast asleep. “It’s my fault you’re here. But I’ll do my best to make sure you don’t pay the price for my foolishness.” 

Slumber isn’t a comfort tonight. Visions of Valla’s destruction replay over and over, eroding any and all pleasant dreams. Those revolving eyes follow her everywhere she runs, and the booming cackle deafens her. Kamui is washed away by the tide, and Janus disintegrates into poppies. Freyja screams somewhere in the distance, and Egeria cries. 

_YOU WILL ALL PAY FOR YOUR HUBRIS_ , he roars, before a giant clawed hand swats her into the darkness. 

Mikoto jumps as she’s shaken awake. Immediately she goes for the hairbrush and wields it in front of her. She shields Kamui with her body, and points the brush toward the offender. 

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Ikona’s voice comes from the dim light. The door is slightly ajar. “You can’t see a damn thing in here.” She lights the lamp on the dresser, and turns to Mikoto. “Oh, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“Had a bad dream,” Mikoto breathes, setting down the brush. “That is all.” 

“You’ve been crying too.” 

“Oh, I, um,” Mikoto wipes her face with a sleeve, “just a nightmare.” 

“Do you get them often?” 

“They’ve lessened over the years. But I get them at least once a month.” Mikoto wraps the blanket tighter around Kamui. She eyes Ikona’s stomach. “You shouldn’t be down here, your majesty.” 

“I had to come and see for myself the ‘arrangements’ the council made for you.” 

“I don’t deserve that consideration, milady. You’re with child, a child that appears to be due any moment now. It’s not in your best interest to travel all the way here.” 

“You make it sound like I’m running all the way to Izumo.” She smiles, and sits down on the cot. “Yuugiri said she offered to bring in a table, or a treat for your daughter some days ago. You declined both.” 

“Pardon my frankness, but with the way things are now, doing so would only feel like my daughter and I are being mocked. I’m no threat, but my word means nothing here, I’ve learned.”

“Sumeragi is very protective of his children,” Ikona begins. “He loves them greatly, as much as he loves his kingdom. Any threat or slight against them he takes seriously. I feel the same way.” 

“As a parent, I understand that. Kamui is the world to me. That’s why I don’t think she deserves to have commodities dangled in front of her while she’s in a cage, and from hands that see her as a _creature_ , not as a person.” Mikoto looks away to her daughter, running fingers through her dark hair. “None of this is her fault. I don’t care what others think of her, or me. She’s just as beautiful as a normal human child. It’s their loss if they can’t see it. But I’m going to try and spare her from any repercussions if I can.” 

Ikona’s stare is on her back, but Mikoto doesn’t turn around. It pinches her heart to know her once-friend will think of her the same way Sumeragi does, the way the whole castle does. Kamui will never grow up to know their ally nations, or even be courted by their princes. But she at least deserves to be treated like a person, and not a thing. 

“When Sumeragi told me of your previous profession,” Ikona begins, “I was suspicious for a whole different reason. He’s not a king to take mistresses, but previous Hoshidan kings have. There’s a first time for everything. Though with the way you speak, it’s obvious you have no intention of securing a place in his will.” 

“I don’t care for riches, or to usurp you or anything like that. All I wanted was to live a peaceful life after I escaped. The village that took me in gave me that, for a while. They even warmed up to Kamui, treated her like a normal person. And now I’ll never see them again.” 

“I’m sorry,” and she sounds sincere too, “but if your daughter has the potential to transform into a beast, that cannot be overlooked. And considering you have a dragonstone and not a beaststone, well, the council is rightfully worried she’ll be more powerful than a kitsune or wolfskin. What if nefarious others caught wind of her powers?” 

“She’s just a child.” 

“Yes, for now.” 

“Lady Ikona,” Mikoto pauses, taking a silent breath, “I don’t know why she’s like this. I don’t know who her father is. And I don’t know how he got his hands on something so valuable. All I _do_ know is that I’m left with the responsibility to protect her, and love her for who and what she is. Because it’s becoming more apparent that everyone around her will not. If we have to stay confined to this room for the rest of our days, then so be it. My love will be enough to help her grow; I’ll assure it.” 

Mikoto glances over her shoulder, and solemnly adds, “All I ask is that she’s treated like a human being by visitors, and not like an animal. Please….” 

When the silence stretches on for too long, Mikoto says, “Milady, you’re heavily pregnant. I wouldn’t advise to have your child among the dirt. But thank you for visiting me. I hope it wasn’t a waste of your time.” 

From the corner of her eye, she sees Ikona reach out before retracting her hand. Yuugiri knocks on the frame of the doorway. “Your majesty, it’s time for lunch. Lord Sumeragi is fretting over your absence.” 

“Yes, I’m on my way.” 

“Queen Ikona,” Mikoto starts without waiting for a reply, “when you go into labor, I suggest either sitting on the edge of the bed when you push, or on all fours. The latter seems demeaning, but it’s surprisingly effective for an easier birth.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, thank you.” 

Mikoto sits against the wall once she’s locked away again. The lamplight flickers against the smooth stones. She thinks she sees a worm, and hopes it goes away lest Kamui try to put it in her mouth. So long as there aren’t any rats, she supposes she can count the other critters as their new company. 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Having nothing else to do the next day, Mikoto spends time teaching Kamui how to read and spell. One thing that wasn’t confiscated was her set of ink and paper. As much as she wants her daughter to be well-versed in both the Nohrian and Hoshidan language, she decides to only teach her the latter. No need to add more suspicion to the growing list of charges. 

Kamui, much like her father, is a quick study. She knows how to write all the Hoshidan characters after just two lessons, though spelling and reading takes a little longer. Mikoto challenges her with spelling out bigger words, like ‘tree branch’ and ‘Shirasagi’. 

“What’s that?” she asks. 

“That’s where we’re at right now. It’s the city’s name.” 

“Ooh, okay.” She sloppily dips the brush in ink. A few dots drip onto the page as she hovers the brush over to a blank space. “Shi… ra… sa… gi. Is it like that, Mama?” 

Mikoto takes her own brush and adjusts one of the strokes. “You were close. Remember to always write out every single line, okay? Otherwise it might mean something different.” She ruffles her hair. “But good job, my little dragon.” 

Kamui grins up at her fondly. 

They’re interrupted by the door unlocking, and then Yuugiri rushing forward. “Mikoto,” she begins, “your companions have vouched for your medical genius. Is this true?” 

She sets the brush down, whispering to Kamui to continue practicing. “Well ‘genius’ might be a little much. But yes, I’m proficient with healing.”

“Then your services are required.” 

“For what? I’m quite content sitting here with my daughter.” 

“This isn’t an option. The queen has gone into labor, but the child won’t come out, and she hasn’t stopped bleeding.” 

It takes all of her bitterness to muster up her callous reply. “Shirasagi Castle has the best healers outside of Izumo. You don’t need me. I’ve never delivered a difficult birth either, so your risk at the situation being worse might just increase.” 

“Both the queen and the child will die if you don’t.” 

“That’s a sad reality of pregnancy.” 

“Please. The queen has done nothing to deserve this.” 

No, she hasn’t. Deep down, Ikona is still her friend. It’d weigh on her conscience if she didn’t do all she could to help. 

“Fine. But I can’t leave Kamui on her own.” 

“I’ll send somebody to watch after her meanwhile. Just hurry, please.” 

Mikoto washes up and tells Kamui she’ll be gone for a little while, but that she’ll return shortly. Yuugiri escorts her up to the royal chambers. Sumeragi is waiting outside the door with Ryoma, the boy asking question after question why his mother keeps screaming and crying. Eventually Saizo is instructed to take him back to his room, despite Ryoma’s worried protests. 

“You’re here,” Sumeragi says, his frown loosening. “I assume Yuugiri told you why.” 

She nods. “I’m going to need certain herbs, and a lot of cloth. But we don’t have much time, so I don’t want to be questioned with my methods. If you want your wife and queen of Hoshido to survive, you must trust me.” 

He doesn’t retort, and Mikoto is allowed into the room. 

What she told Yuugiri isn’t a lie: she’s never delivered difficult births. And Ikona is bleeding so much, Mikoto’s confidence slips away like the sweat on the queen’s forehead. But she swallows her fear and does her best in aiding the ailing woman. 

Some of the healers hesitate with giving her things, perhaps perplexed why a mere commoner is giving them orders. But when Yuugiri glares at them from her corner of the room, barking they get on their feet or they won’t have any, they rush to assist. Mikoto tells them which herbs and salves to use for clotting blood and ease the pain. She pleads with Ikona to keep pushing, helping her get on her hands and knees. _The baby isn’t coming out head-first. Oh gods, I’ve never delivered this way._

“I can’t,” she sobs tiredly. “It’s too long. They were never this long. It hurts, oh dear _gods_ ,” she grits her teeth, a scream forcing through, “it hurts. I just want to sleep….” 

“No, no your majesty,” Mikoto argues, “you can’t. Please, do it for your child. They’re almost here. I believe in you.” 

Ikona gives a cry, but she pushes as Mikoto continues to encourage her. Her stomach churns in nervousness as she tries to get the infant’s body out slowly. “This might be uncomfortable, and I apologize,” Mikoto says. She delicately eases the legs out, and does the same with the arms. Mikoto smiles in relief when the infant’s head finally slips through. 

“You did it,” she says, as the baby lets out its first cry. “You did it.” Mikoto cuts the umbilical cord and then takes the child away to clean them while the nurses help in wiping up all the blood. “It’s a girl,” she says, wiping the infant’s blotchy face. “A healthy baby girl.” 

But Ikona doesn’t respond, and instead slumps onto the ground. Mikoto ushers the child into Yuugiri’s arms before pushing the nurses out of the way. _Damn it all._ “She’s lost a lot of blood; I’ll need to check for lacerations. We don’t have time to drag our feet either. Listen to me now…” 

Another stressful hour later, and Ikona is asleep in a new change of clothes. Mikoto healed up the laceration with a rod to save them time. She mixed together a special vulnerary to help keep Ikona’s strength up and relieve her of all the blood she’d lost. 

“It’s rare that a mother has lacerations after having several children already,” Mikoto explains. “But that’s what was causing a lot of the bleeding.”

“She’ll live, though?” asks Sumeragi. 

“If she’s given constant supervision, yes. Her energy is low, and she’ll need bed rest until her body can repair itself of the damage. Minimal magical healing along with the vulnerary I prepared should get her back on her feet in a few days.” Mikoto grimaces down at her bloody clothes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to… get rid of these. And bathe.” 

Yuugiri escorts her to a wash room where Mikoto quickly rinses off and is given a clean change in clothes. They’re the ones she’s seen the servant women wear. _From crown princess and royal advisor to servant girl. I have certainly been knocked off my pedestal several floors down, haven’t I?_  

“Don’t fret over the bloody clothes,” Yuugiri says. “Leave them here and we’ll burn them later. Too much blood to simply wash off.” 

“I understand. Thank you for these new garbs.” 

“Thank you for helping the queen. I know you don’t think highly of her or the king at the moment.” 

“It doesn’t matter what I think of them. I was asked to help, and I did. Lady Ikona seems like a good person, and is a beloved queen. I can tell by how many around her were worried of her health and survival. It takes a truly good ruler to gain that much affection and respect from her people.” _Katerina is already gone. I won’t let Ikona fall to death’s embrace too if I can help it._  

Yuugiri only hums in response, before leading Mikoto back to her room. 

Kamui is napping on the cot when she gets there. Yuugiri tells her she’ll deliver food in a little while before locking the door again. With her conscience clear, she curls up next to Kamui on the cot. Mikoto brings her daughter into her arms, and takes a well-deserved nap. 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Nothing is said of her assistance when she’s brought dinner (a bigger portion than usual), though at this point she doesn’t expect to be repaid or noticed for her work. It’s several days after until somebody acknowledges the role she played in the delivery.

“Your presence is requested,” a guard says. “Orders from the king. We will watch over your child meanwhile.” 

She allows herself to be led away to the upper floor. Sumeragi is there speaking with two elderly advisors. When he spots Mikoto, he dismisses them with a polite nod and rises from his seat on the throne. “Good afternoon, Miss Mikoto.”

“What’s with the formality? There’s no reason why you should address me as such.” 

Sumeragi clears his throat. “Ikona won’t let me hear the end of it if I don’t.” 

“How is the queen?” 

“She’s doing better, thank you for asking.” 

“Oh, yes that’s good then. Just keep at it with my instructions, and she’ll be right as rain.” Mikoto straightens out the wrinkles in her long skirt. “If that is what you wanted to tell me, however, you could’ve just asked somebody to relay the news to me.” 

“About that…” He walks toward her, seemingly confused on what to do with his hands. He settles for placing them behind his back. “When Ikona woke, she was rather irate when she learned you were still in your room.” 

“That’s where I live now,” she says plainly. 

“I meant that she was irate with _me_ for not providing you with better quarters.” 

“I don’t need anything fancy. Yes, I would like a window at least, but I manage.” 

“Well,” he hesitates, “Ikona doesn’t think it proper to keep you there. And… I should say that I myself am ashamed I haven’t given your living arrangements much more thought.” 

“As king, you have more important matters to attend to. A mere commoner’s comfort should be low on your list of priorities. Like I said, I manage. I’ve come to terms with my new lifestyle. It’s better than being imprisoned, and I should take relief in the little positives of life, don’t you think?” 

Sumeragi crosses his arms. “That’s one way to look at it, I suppose. So I hope it pleases you to know there has been a development in your situation.” 

“I’m not interested if it doesn’t benefit my daughter.” 

“But it does. A child shouldn’t be kept locked away, without much light nonetheless. You’ve proven to not only be of no harm, but you’ve also proved your loyalty by helping restore the queen to health, and assist in a difficult birth. Therefore, she’s asked for you to be a personal healer. She wants you in close quarters, and we’ve already made arrangements for your new room.” 

“So I would’ve never had a say in it then? It sounds like this was decided for me.” She withholds a huff, and the sharp edge to her tongue. “But, I accept. If Kamui will have better living conditions, then I’ll do it.” 

“You really do everything for your daughter, don’t you?” Sumeragi asks fondly with a smile. 

Mikoto doesn’t return it. “She’s all I have. I’d willingly die for her if it came down to it. But I’d prefer not to; living for loved ones isn’t any less admirable, in my opinion.” 

“No, I suppose not.” 

She doesn’t humor him with anymore idle chit-chat. Mikoto bows politely and gives her thanks before returning to her room. Ninja are already there standing by the door, replacing the infantry guards from before. Kamui asks a lot of questions about what’s happening as they pack. 

“We’re going to have a better room, love.”

“One with a window?” 

“Yes,” Mikoto smiles, “one with a window.” 

_It’s taking me longer than I had hoped, but I’m moving up, Freyja. I’m that much closer to finding you, sort of. Please, I pray that you’re still alive. I still have faith we’ll meet again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikoto's off to a rocky start with the Hoshidan crown, huh? I know in the game Hoshido is blatantly supposed to be the "good guys" side, but I also don't think it's realistic for there to not be any sort of tension with how they do certain things either. I hope I gave this kingdom more depth by writing what I did.
> 
> But hold off on taking that breath of relief. Mikoto's--and Kamui's--troubles are only just beginning. Hee hee.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	15. XV

For the next two years, Mikoto works as Ikona’s personal healer. (Attendant, really.) She doesn’t quite get along with the other nurses. They don’t bother her, but they also don’t make any attempt to socialize either. The upside is that Yuugiri is much friendlier with her now, and often makes an effort to keep Mikoto company whenever they’re both free. 

Most of the time, however, Mikoto is left with looking after Sakura, the second princess of Hoshido. It was only two years ago that she helped deliver the girl of another woman, yet Mikoto feels as if she were her own child. Kamui too, enjoys helping her mother look after the dear thing. 

“She’s tiny.” 

“Well of course. She’s four years younger than you, love.” 

“Do you think we’ll be friends when she’s big?” 

“Yes, I do believe so.” Sakura giggles happily at the doll Mikoto nudges against her, pretending it’s giving her kisses. “You want to be Kamui’s friend too, don’t you?” 

“Oh, I’m sure she will,” Ikona says from the doorway. “I think she’s gotten used to Kamui’s voice too.” The queen sits down next to them, taking Sakura into her arms. She smiles down at her child, stroking the soft pink hair on her daughter’s head. “To think, she might’ve not been here had you not helped. Or me.” 

“I was only doing what anyone would’ve, your majesty,” Mikoto replies. 

“Please, call me Ikona. I think you’ve more than earned it at this point.” 

“I’m… not sure if that’s a good idea. Not that—well, I’d love to be friends, but you don’t allow that permission with anybody else. Not even Yuugiri.” 

She chuckles. “I have offered it to her, but she refuses. While being queen does come with fine kimonos, the best food in the land, and other luxuries, it’s a little lonely. People around you are too scared to be friendly. I understand of course, but… well,” she huffs, “I know I shouldn’t complain. This isn’t the life I wanted, but I was blessed with the highest position in the land, and with four wonderful children. Sumeragi is a good husband too.” 

“Even then,” Mikoto starts carefully, “I think you have room to be frustrated; you’re still only human. I can’t imagine the weight your shoulders carry.” 

Ikona hums in reply. “It’s why I’d like a little reprieve, even if it’s in the form of somebody I can call my friend. This may sound strange, but…,” the woman smiles sheepishly, “I feel like we’ve known each other forever, with how close you work with me. And your daughter gets along so well with my children, Takumi especially. He’s quite fond of your girl. Always asking when he can be let out of his lessons to play with her.” 

She laughs softly. “At this point, Yukimura makes it a _reward_ for him. If he can get through his lessons, Kamui can play with him. Never seen him studying harder before.” 

“I like Takumi too!” Kamui pipes up. She grins wide at Ikona. “He’s my friend! One time he gave me a tangerine and we shared it near the pond!” 

“Would you like to play with Takumi right now?” 

Kamui’s face lights up, and her smile stretches across her lips. “Can I, Miss Ikona?” 

“Of course, dear.” She ruffles her hair. “He should be done with his lessons about now. Why don’t you go meet him outside the door? Just don’t run down the stairs, okay?” 

Nodding quickly, Kamui scurries out of the room, giggling. Her footsteps pad along the wooden floors in the hallway until it fades to silence. Even if the majority of castle staff aren’t too taken with Mikoto, she’s at least thankful the royal children like Kamui. At first they had questioned why she looked ‘strange’. But after Mikoto explained she’s ‘gifted’, they shrugged it off and treated her as they would a normal child. 

“Thank you,” Mikoto says, “for being kind to my daughter.” 

“She’s done nothing to deserve any scorn,” Ikona replies. “I’m just following the children’s example.” 

“They really do come into this world innocent, don’t they?” 

Ikona smiles. “Yes. But I didn’t send Kamui away just because. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.” She fiddles with the decorative clasp of Sakura’s little shawl. Ikona’s lips fall into a frown. 

“Milady?” Mikoto places a comforting hand on her arm. “Is everything alright?”

“You know that girl, Orochi, correct?” 

“She’s your retainer-in-training, right?” 

The queen nods. “Yes. I’m having her spar with Ryoma whenever she can, seeing as they’re about the same age. I’d like her to get to know my family if she’s to protect me. And my son could use a bit of practice going up against magic. Orochi’s made great progress so far. Given Ryoma a run for his money a few times even.” 

“She sounds like she’s got a very promising future.” 

“Yes, future….” Ikona stares at the floorboards, patting Mikoto’s hand softly. “You know of her family, right?”

Mikoto has never personally met them, but in the past, she’s been told about them from either Sumeragi or Ikona. Orochi is from a noble Hoshidan house whose family members are employed by the crown. They’re superb diviners, and every fortune they have comes true in some shape or form—the most accurate diviners in all the land, even. 

“I do. They help with military strategy, don’t they?” 

Ikona nods. “They’re invaluable; we’ve made little mistakes as possible because of them. Their fortunes have brought us many advantages in all areas of life, but the drawback is that said fortunes are never wrong.” 

“Why is that a bad thing?” 

Sighing, Ikona stands and walks to the round window. She gazes up at the clouds, watching the Kinshi knights fly around for their daily training. “Last week Orochi gave me a little fortune, said I’d find a pleasant surprise in the garden. And I did; it was a blue butterfly—my favorite animal. They’re rare this time of year.” She smiles wistfully down at a sleeping Sakura in her arms. “I asked her again yesterday just because. And the thing with fortunes from her family, is that they’re very capricious. Good or bad, the diviners don’t have a say in the matter. It’s whatever they see, whatever the gods wish them to see at that moment.” 

The woman turns around, another deep frown on her pink painted lips. “I asked her for a fortune, and now I regret ever doing so.” 

Mikoto walks up to her, knots constricting her stomach. “You’re worrying me, your majesty. What happened?” 

“Orochi foresaw my death.” 

Her breath escapes her, and Mikoto chokes out a, “What?” 

“The poor girl turned deathly pale—refused to give it to me at first, but I made her tell me. She apologized profusely, and then ran away with tears in her eyes.” Ikona kisses Sakura’s head, giving her a sad smile. “I wasn’t given specifics, only that I wouldn’t live to see Sakura grow past the age of 3.” 

Mikoto is frozen where she stands. No, no this could not be happening. First Katerina, and now it seems Ikona is the next in line to die. Is this Anankos’ doing? Will she die because of something he’ll do? Does he plan to kill the entire royal family of Hoshido and Nohr? 

_I’m running out of time. Damn it. Damn it all!_  

“Please, Mikoto,” Ikona continues after a heavy pause, “don’t tell anyone I told you this.” 

“But, b-but milady, shouldn’t Lord Sum—” 

“No! Absolutely not!” Ikona rushes toward her, looking frantic. “He cannot know. It’ll cause him unnecessary grief, both for him and my children.” With her free hand, she takes Mikoto’s, holding it firmly. “Please, you cannot tell anyone.” 

“Then why would you tell me? I… I don’t…” 

“If I told Yuugiri, she’d try to prevent my death. And if I told my husband, he’d keep me confined to the castle and have me supervised forever. The only ones I know who can think rationally about this are Yukimura, and you. Orochi already swore she wouldn’t say anything either.” 

“But I… I’m not even close enough to you to be worthy of having such a grim revelation.” 

Ikona gives her a soft smile, her eyes sad. “You’ve been by my side and worked diligently for two whole years. I owe my life and Sakura’s to you. Not only have you been my personal nurse, and the nanny for my children, but also my confidant. When I speak with you, it’s like—I know when people are only agreeing with me because I’m the queen. But when I speak with you, it’s like you actually do understand what I’m feeling, and you know all the right things to say, even if I might not want to hear them at first. Almost as if I’ve known you my whole life.” 

_There’s a reason for that._ “I’m only trying to be a good friend, Lady Ikona.”

“And a good friend that you are, too.” Ikona rocks Sakura in her arms, pressing her cheek to her small face. “Promise me you’ll look after my children when I’m gone, Mikoto. Make sure the next queen of Hoshido treats them right.” 

“Please don’t talk like that.” Mikoto swallows a sob. “There’s always a chance that—” 

“No. Orochi’s divinations are absolute. Her family has been known for them for generations, and not _once_ have their foresights been wrong. I can’t escape this, but at least now I can prepare for it.” 

Ikona hands Sakura to Mikoto. “I’m going to speak with Yukimura, instruct him on what to do after my time. Make it so Orochi receives no punishment for merely telling the truth, one she didn’t get to choose. I could die tomorrow for all I know. Mustn’t waste any time.” 

Her eyes glisten with tears, yet she smiles. “The gods have given me four wonderful children, a husband who values both his family and kingdom, and irreplaceable friends. I’ve lived a good life. I don’t know what awaits me beyond death, but I hope I can see him again.” 

“See who?” 

Mikoto only gets a small smile. “Well, best I made my way to Yukimura’s office. I’ll see you at dinner, my friend.” 

The room is cloaked in silence after the sliding door closes. Mikoto slumps to the floor, cradling Sakura in her arms. She holds her close to her chest, placing a gentle hand on her head. Without Ikona around, Katerina dead, and Freyja still lost, Mikoto wonders if it’s even worth trying to change the future of the world. The less help she has, the harder it’ll be, and the closer Anankos gets to his permanent victory. 

Sakura begins to stir from her nap, and starts to whine. Mikoto shushes her gently, lightly bouncing her in her arms. “You’re right, little one; I can’t give up. You deserve to see a full world when you’re older, and you deserve to live. You’ve done nothing to earn his wrath.” 

_No matter how many sorrows I go through, I must persevere, if only so the next generation stands a chance._

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Dread festers in her gut when Ikona falls ill some weeks later. 

As much as she tries, Mikoto can’t seem to find any remedy, or even properly diagnose her. Some days she runs a fever, and other days she has a cough. Sometimes when she coughs, she spits out speckles of blood in the process. Some days when she attempts to eat, she’ll upchuck her food hours later. None of the nurses know a cure, and Mikoto is given wider access of the royal archives to find some answer. Scroll after scroll, they offer nothing of the sort. There are a few Nohrian texts collecting dust on the shelves. She stays away from those, knowing her knowledge of Nohrian will only reignite the suspicion from two years ago. 

“Nothing is working, is it?” Sumeragi asks her one day. He’d personally requested she join him for a leisure walk in the grand royal gardens. “Ikona falls in and out of consciousness, and her skin continues to pale.” 

“I’m sorry, milord.” Mikoto keeps her head bowed. “I’ve tried everything, from things I know, to things within old texts. None of it is working….” 

Sumeragi crosses his arms, and stares out at the large pond. “It’s not your fault, Mikoto. You’ve worked tirelessly to try and help her. I’d ask the diviners for assistance, but I’d rather not know the answer.” He smiles bitterly. “Does that make me selfish?” 

Mikoto shakes her head, looking up at him now. “No. I think it makes you human. Sometimes, it’s better if we don’t know. You have every right to be scared.” 

“We all have our deaths written in the stars before we’re even born, and yet I find myself wishing to rip them out of the sky.” 

“You really love her, don’t you?” 

He hums, nodding. “I’ve known since I married her that Ikona didn’t love me. Over the years, she’s grown to love me like family, but not as a husband. I know who her heart had belonged to. It was to a stable boy. Her family is of noble blood that raises all the Kinshi we use in our army. That young man was one of the hired caretakers of the beasts. Long story short, her father didn’t approve, and had him ‘disappear’. I’ve tried to comfort her that he might’ve just found work elsewhere, but I think we both knew what happened to him in the end.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

A frog croaks on a rock before jumping into the pond. It scatters the colorful koi in every direction, like fireworks. “Her father passed five years ago. She went to the funeral out of obligation. Not once did she look sad. All she said was, ‘The gods are always watching’, and then went about her day as usual.” 

Sumeragi chuckles. “It was that moment I was glad she at least respected me and liked me as a friend. Should I pass, she’d rule Hoshido, and the people like her immensely. There was nothing stopping her from planning my demise.”

“She’s not that kind of person,” Mikoto defends. “Lady Ikona is a sweet woman, and cares a lot for her family, including you. Yes, she might’ve not loved you like she did that other man, but you secured a place in her heart nevertheless. She’s told me many stories about you, both heroic and silly.” 

He laughs, giving a glance to Mikoto. “Has she now?” 

A smile finds its way onto her face. “Yes. Sometimes she laughs so hard she cries. Or she’ll stare fondly at nothing when she’s telling me these things. That’s why I truly believe she loved you as a friend, and as family, even if not as a husband.” Mikoto clears her throat. “If I may be frank, she has every reason to. You’re a benevolent king, a skilled warrior, a loving father, and an attentive husband. I think that was enough to at least help her move on, for the most part.” 

Sumeragi continues to smile at her. “You flatter me too much, Miss Mikoto.”

“That’s not what I was intending to do, your majesty. I only speak the truth.” 

“Either way, thank you for your kind words. It means a lot that you’re there for my wife when I cannot be.” 

“She’s my friend, simple as that. I don’t have very many of those, so I cherish the ones I’m allowed to have.” 

“Ah, I see.” The king is silent, staring out at the pond again. He takes in a breath before saying, “Over time you’ve proved to be a loyal and productive member of the castle staff, as well as a friend to the queen. It dawns on me greater every day that I treated you horribly in the beginning.” 

“I was frustrated,” Mikoto admits, “and a little angry, only because of my daughter. But I also understand why you did it. And if it’ll help your mood, I’ve gotten over it some time ago.” 

“Thank you for forgiving me.”

“No thanks needed, your majesty.” 

“But I truly mean it.” He stares at her, unmoving, before glancing away back to the castle. “I’ve spoken with Yukimura, and the council. We try to resolve things as much as we can without needing outside help. But things aren’t getting any better, and so we’ve decided to seek assistance from Izumo.” 

She’s surprised they’ve waited this long to consult them. Izumo has the best healers in all the land, as far as Hoshido is concerned. Nohr has magnificent doctors as well, but they’re less populous in comparison to their eastern neighbors. Mikoto hopes by getting their help, Ikona will live just a little longer without suffering. 

_This cannot be the end for her._ “Lord Sumeragi,” she starts, “may I be granted permission to train in Izumo?” 

“Funny you should say that,” he replies with a smile. “I was just about to ask if you’d like to be sent there to learn better practices; see what else you can find. There’s nothing more you can do here for the moment anyway.” 

“If it’ll help Lady Ikona, then I’ll go.” 

“What of Kamui?” 

Mikoto doesn’t want to leave her behind. Kamui is still much too curious to be left unsupervised. While any draconic powers haven’t manifested yet, she’s still not entirely exhibiting normal human behavior. For whatever reason, she hates any sort of footwear. Unless she absolutely has to—like during winter—Kamui would rather be barefoot, whether it’s along the floorboards of the castle, or outside in the dirt. And while she hasn’t eaten any bugs as of late, Kamui vaguely understands how and why animals feel a certain way, almost as if she can speak with them or read their minds. To some degree, anyway. 

_Considering she’s the daughter of a primordial god, that’s not at all surprising. I just hope her powers are benign and nothing too destructive…._  

“I don’t want to,” Mikoto begins to answer, “but I think it’s best if I leave her. I’ve had a lot of time to think since living here, and you were right the first time: Kamui is young, but she was born as something mightier than a normal human. I can only assume her potential has something to do with dragons, otherwise her father wouldn’t have given me that stone. She’s safe here; nobody can harm her. The trip to Izumo is long, and I’d like time to just solely focus on curing the queen for now.” 

Sumeragi nods in understanding. “We’ll watch over her then, and try to help her not miss you too much. While you’re there, try looking into exactly what she is, and what she might do as she grows. Izumo is the closest anyone will get to the gods, so maybe they’ll bless you with more than just medical knowledge. I’m sure Archduchess Yukiko will have some answers, or at least help guide you in the right direction.” 

“Then I better start packing, shouldn’t I?” 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Kamui only makes a minor fuss of Mikoto leaving, but she promises her daughter she’ll pick her up some little souvenir. It takes around four days to get to Izumo. They were notified ahead of time that Mikoto would be coming, and to please prepare any and all lessons or texts so that she may get to work immediately. 

When her small convoy arrives, she’s escorted to the home of the archduchess. It dwarfs the majority of all the other buildings in the city with its wide and red three stories. A serene garden dotted with mossy rocks decorates the front, and a brook runs underneath the entrance bridge. The entire complex is ornately detailed with plants and architectural flourishes. The only thing grander is the shrine at the base of the massive holy tree, apparently being the last of its kind from the primordial era of the gods. 

“Ah, you must be Mikoto,” Yukiko says, strolling toward her. “Welcome to Izumo!”

“Hello, Archduchess Yukiko.” Mikoto bows politely. “Thank you for agreeing to host me. I wish to learn all I can so I may help Queen Ikona get better.” 

“Of course, of course.” She waves for her to follow, and Mikoto is taken up to the third floor. “My home has a personal library, although they’re not medical texts. For the next several days, you’ll be studying at the healer’s school down the street. You’ll find everything you need to there, and I’ve also granted you access to the shrine. Prayer usually helps speed things up. But make sure to be back before dinner. I like everyone to be prompt!” 

“I will. Thank you so much for your hospitality.” 

Yukiko smiles at her. “Don’t mention it.” 

As she’s walking away, Mikoto asks, “Oh, uh, about the shrine: do the gods answer prayers from normal civilians? Or is it just your family and the shrine staff?” 

“My family are the only ones who have direct contact with the gods,” the woman turns around, hands on her hips, “as in we can hear their voices speaking to us. They answer other people in subtle ways. Why?” 

“There is…,” Mikoto looks to the retainers nearby. One is playing with a dagger in her hand, and the other shifts his grip on the naginata, “um, it’s sort of personal, and I would prefer if you were the only one aware.” 

With a hum, Yukiko dismisses her retainers. They protest quietly, but she murmurs something to them, and then they’re off. Both give a wary look to Mikoto before excusing themselves. “Come.” Yukiko places a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s talk in my study.” 

It’s a wide room, and reminds her of Freyja’s study with tapestries and paintings. Yukiko sits at a low table where tea has been set. She gestures to the opposite seat. “Please, join me. I find people are more comfortable speaking when they’ve had some sort of food.” 

“Thank you.” Mikoto sits and offers to pour the tea. Yukiko obliges with a smile. “So the matter I wish to discuss,” she begins, handing the archduchess her cup, “has to do with my daughter, Kamui. I specifically asked King Sumeragi not to tell you about it, lest the message get… erm, ‘compromised’, I guess you can say.” 

“Sounds serious.” Yukiko blows on the steaming tea. “I wanna tell you right now my expertise is very specific, so there’s a chance I might not be able to help you.” 

“I’ve prepared myself for such an option, but I won’t know until I try.” 

“Good attitude, ‘Koto. May I call you that?” 

“If you’d like,” she replies with a small smile. The cup in Mikoto’s hand warms her palms, and she stares at the tea leaves scattered along the bottom. “You see, my daughter isn’t like other children….” 

Carefully she describes to Yukiko about her child’s (fake) origins. She pours out her worries of Kamui’s potential strength, and gives accounts of the things Kamui does that aren’t normal, even for curious children. As she speaks, a part of her realizes Janus being absent might’ve been for the better. Anankos might’ve found them otherwise, and already killed them. Or alternatively, Janus might’ve brought more attention to them because of what he was. 

_As much as I miss him—as much as I wish Kamui could’ve known her father, maybe that was a blessing in disguise._  

When she’s done saying all that needs to be said, Yukiko stares at her. She takes another sip of her tea, then replies, “You’re in quite a pickle, aren’t you?” 

“I love my daughter,” she clarifies, “so please don’t misunderstand. But I don’t know what she is, aside from it having something to do with dragons. Her father wouldn’t have given me that stone otherwise.” 

Nodding, the archduchess hums. “Gotcha. I’ll speak with the gods, and maybe they’ll be generous to give some insight on what to do. I would’ve preferred you brought your kid, had I known you were gonna tell me this, but I understand. Better to be safe than sorry.” 

“Thank you, Lady Yukiko. I’ll figure out some way to repay your generosity.” 

“Help Ikona get better; that’s all the thanks I’ll need.” 

Mikoto works tirelessly after that chat. Every day she rises early to go to the school and learn better medicinal practices. And every evening before dinner, she goes to the shrine and offers food to the gods, praying they’ll help her find some solution to Ikona’s illness. Yukiko’s jovial and comforting presence lifts her spirits whenever she does see her. It keeps her motivated to continue researching, and even learning the archaic Hoshidan language to read older texts. 

Nothing has been found after spending a week there. But Yukiko is more successful on her end of the bargain. 

“I spoke to the gods,” she says as they stroll around the garden. “Took a while, and many more offerings than normal, but they gave me an answer yesterday.” 

When Mikoto doesn’t say anything in reply, Yukiko continues, “It’s strange; some of my visions were obscured, like they were purposely blocked. I wasn’t able to see who her father is, or if there are others like him.” So, Anankos has range even among the realm of prayer and worship. He really is such a bothersome creature. Mikoto regrets ever feeling sorry for his dragon half. “But what I managed to translate is that she’s similar to the kitsune and wolfskin: with that stone, she can control the feral half of herself.” 

“Feral?” 

Yukiko nods. “Kamui is a child, so it could be why it hasn’t manifested yet. From what I understand, kitsune and wolfskin are born as either their human half, or their beast side depending on the forms the parents took when they conceived. But these hybrids are still too elusive for us to know anything more than that. Kamui might work the same way, though. She’s 6 now, and she hasn’t shown any animalistic behavior aside from eating bugs and preferring to be barefoot. You said she can sorta understand animals too?”

“Yes,” Mikoto replies with a nod. “From mammals to fish, and everything else in between—even insects, she seems to have some idea of how they’re feeling. She doesn’t have a language she speaks in with them; it’s more like keen intuition into their emotions.” 

“Dragons created our world—are our gods’ primary forms, even. Whoever her father is, he must have some connection to them.” 

“Maybe. I-I never saw his face.” A dull pain begins to spread at the back of her head. _Damn it. This blasted curse!!_ “Is there anything else the gods told you?” 

“Not much else. Only that if Kamui stays too long in whatever feral form she ends up having, she’ll become a beast permanently. But as long as she has that stone, she’ll be able to revert back to her human half, or retain her human consciousness when in her beast form, if that’s what she wants to do.” 

“Thank you, Lady Yukiko.” Mikoto takes her hands in her own, squeezing gently. “I think I can be better prepared now, whenever it does happen. But I’m afraid I have yet to find a solution to Queen Ikona’s condition….” 

She pats Mikoto’s hand, giving her a reassuring smile. “You just keep at it. The gods won’t tell me anything; won’t even let me have a divination about Ikona. Not that I wanna already think the worst, but all things happen for a reason, whether we like them or not. Something good always comes from something bad. Easier said than done, but…” 

The woman frowns, staring off at a rock nearby. “Just in case, I’ve sent some healers to Shirasagi. A favor for friends, you can say. Might buy you some more time to study for future incidents.” 

“I understand.” 

For the remainder of the day, they speak no more of Ikona’s condition. Mikoto simply focuses on her training, and reading up on all she can. A few times, Yukiko offers to teach her what she knows. Simple things like how to better channel magic when summoning from the animal scrolls, and better preparation of medicines. 

Around the end of her third week in Izumo, she’s visited by Saizo the Fourth, of all people. He appears in a flash of smoke as she’s washing some potent mushrooms. She nearly drops the entire basket, had he not caught them before they tumbled. 

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes, a rare treat indeed. “But you must return to Shirasagi immediately.” 

“I’m not done yet,” she replies. “Nothing I’ve found so far can help—” 

“You have a bigger problem on your hands.” He sets the basket on the counter, and gives her a hard stare. “It’s about your daughter.” 

Mikoto’s heart sinks to her stomach, and her lungs clench. “What happened to Kamui?” 

“She’s been imprisoned—” 

“ _What?!_ ” Mikoto steps closer, dread washing over her. “I’ve told her to behave and—King Sumeragi said he’d look after her or at least have somebody there to—!” 

“Let me _finish_ ,” Saizo growls. “I don’t know how or why, but your child is being contained. Though I don’t even know if she’s aware of it.” 

“Why?” 

He grunts, crossing his arms. “She’s become some strange beast. Has been for a few days already.”

Mikoto steps backward, slumping into a seat. _Oh no…._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The game never says how Ikona died, only that most of the Hoshidan siblings were too young to remember her. But that's such a cop-out for later events of the game (and one of my sore points), so I'm having them all be completely aware of who their mother was, except for Sakura.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	16. XVI

She has to be careful whenever they pass through the lake. But it’s the only way Azura can learn the song without the curse activating. Arete never spends more than an hour at the edges of Valla, lest Anankos’ undead minions come after her. 

The land is still topsy-turvy. Laws of nature are twisted in the sheets of earth that float in the sky, and some waterfalls run upwards. Ruins litter the land, blocks of cut yet damaged stone scattered all about, no matter which section of the ground she finds herself on. Clouds sometimes hover down vertically onto the grass, chilling them where they stand. 

It’s a sad reminder of what was lost, yet simultaneously a motivator to persevere toward its restoration.

“Did that sound good, Mother?” Azura asks. She’s only 7, and already she’s completely memorized the first third of the song. 

“Yes, it was excellent.” Arete smiles down at her, stroking her hair. “Next time we can start on the second section.” 

“Okay. Can we go back now? I’m a little hungry….” 

“Perhaps it’s best we left, yes. And remember: do not tell anyone about this place, or you’ll turn into water on the other side.” 

Nodding, Azura lets out a worried, “O-Okay, I promise.” 

Looking around, she makes sure they’re not being followed before stepping back into the lake, and reappearing on the Nohrian end. There’s always a chance Anankos is aware they’ve been to Valla, but so long as they don’t make a ruckus, he should still have a difficult time finding them. 

Over the years, Arete has seen only a couple of his undead warriors. They’re nearly transparent, flickering in and out of existence in a purple aura. Other people don’t seem to notice them, and if somebody or something bumps into one or accidentally strikes it, then they disappear. Whatever Janus did to his dragon half, it worked. Anankos doesn’t have reach outside of Valla, or at the very least, it’s incredibly weak. 

 _Good. That still gives me more time to figure out a way to defeat him, and to find Karuna._  

But in the meantime, she focuses on picking up Katerina’s work. The Dragon Veins continue to deplete organic life on the surface, but she’s found they produce far more precious gems and ores as an after effect. While this is a luxury for nobility and the guilds, it’s far less useful to everyone else. She’s tried to dabble in some alchemy as an alternative to growing more food, but it always ends up in a pile of dubious gray mush. 

During Katerina’s reign, Brynhildr was used to fertilize the land around the capital. But the ancient tome doesn’t respond to Arete’s pleas. Instead she’s had to resort to spells from her own tome that enhance Windmire’s soil. The new yield for crops still hadn’t increased by more than a few pounds, but at least it’s something. The food was then distributed evenly enough among all classes in the social ladder. Iago was disgruntled when she had first proposed it, but he can do without unnecessary amounts of cocoa beans and strawberries. 

When she and Azura return to the northern royal vacation home after their outing, Gunter greets them with a bow. “Welcome back, milady, young princess.” 

“Thank you, Sir Gunter. It’s good to have returned after a few hours out there.” 

“Did you find anything else on the Dragon Veins?” 

With a weary sigh, Arete replies, “Unfortunately, nothing. So far, the ones up here haven’t deteriorated yet. The land is still fresh and a lush green. From the data I’ve gathered, though, it seems to take at least a year for a mile of the Vein to decompose. And the Veins deteriorate coming eastward. The land closest to the mountain border is the driest, I’ve found.” 

A reasonable assumption is that Anankos has something to do with it. As far as she knows, Hoshido isn’t lacking for crops. _Exactly what does that monster wish to gain by doing this?_  

Yet another mild pain pricks at the back of her head. She groans, rubbing her temple. Gunter places a gentle hand on her back. “Milady, you look exhausted. Perhaps you ought to take the rest of the day to relax. I’m sure Princess Azura would like to eat as well.” 

“That’s a good idea, thank you.” They’re escorted to a sun room where a small round table is already set with a cloth and a vase of white roses. Gunter always has everything prompt before Arete even asks him. Since becoming queen, he’s been the definition of a loyal and attentive retainer. He hovers a little too much, but she supposes it’s how he shows that he cares. 

She’s thankful that Garon gives her so much free range to study the Dragon Veins. Part of her knows it’s because he doesn’t want her targeted by the remaining concubines, and another part of her understands he’d like some alone time with them as well. Not that she gives much of a damn. She’d rather be away from the castle and out studying Nohr’s ecosystem, though regrettably she has to leave Xander behind. Being the crown prince has him stuck in lessons and sword training day and night. That poor boy will wear himself thin if Garon doesn’t remember he’s only 10, to be 11 in a few months. 

A plate shatters on the floor out in the hallway coupled with shouting, and she shakes her head. Felicia must have dropped it yet again. Her twin sister Flora complains, and then Gunter scolds the both of them. 

“I’m sorry, milady,” the knight apologizes as he walks into the room, “but we’ll have to prepare another salad. Felicia _once again_ has made a mess of it.” 

Sobbing, the girl with pink bobbed hair says, “I’m so sorry, Queen Arete! I-I tripped on the rug a-and the tray was kinda heavy—” 

Flora gives her a look, but doesn’t comment. “Here you go, your majesty.” She sets two glasses on the table with a polite smile. Then with both hands, she carries a large pitcher full of juice. “Would you like this to drink, or some wine?” 

“That’s fine, thank you.” 

Arete is always uncomfortable seeing the sisters clean and serve food. They’re as old as Azura, and yet they’re already training to be maids. What makes it worse is the fact that it’s punishment for Kilma, the Ice Tribe’s chief. He refused to be governed by Nohr, and refused to have the fertile land lent to them during crucial crop periods. Garon had threatened an attack, and it took all Arete had to convince him to resort to a non-violent solution. 

Imprisoning Kilma’s daughters into servitude for 20 years wasn’t what she had in mind. They’re mere children, and shouldn’t be doing constant manual labor so young. She understands Garon’s desperation for more food, but hurting children isn’t a logical solution. Something she argued strongly the last time she spoke of it with him. 

“They’ll grow up to be Azura’s personal retainers,” he reasoned that day. “I don’t do things without purpose, Arete. Gunter will look after them, if that’s your concern. He’ll train them well, you will see.” 

It’s not that the old knight is a horrible mentor; he just treats them more like soldiers than the 7-year-olds they actually are. 

When he and the girls are out of the room to retrieve the dinner, Arete looks to Azura. “My songbird, please promise me you’ll treat Flora and Felicia like friends, okay? They must miss their home very much.” 

Giving a nod, she replies, “I will, Mother. But why can’t they go home?” 

“I don’t know, dear.” 

During times when Gunter and the girls are traveling with Arete, she enforces they have at least an hour to themselves. Whether it’s to play or even nap, the mother part of her cannot just ignore their maturity, or lack thereof. She has Azura play with them in her room, usually with the dolls or painting pictures. It also gives Arete time to herself to look over notes, and study her map of Nohr for their next destination. 

One night as she’s leaving her study, Felicia comes running up to her. The girl trips and scrapes a knee, but gets back up and keeps going. “Lady Arete! Lady Arete!”

“Felicia, are you okay?” Arete places her hands on the girl’s shoulders, halting her. “Breathe, Felicia. Now are—” 

“But it’s impor—!” 

“Are you _okay?_ ” 

The girl looks up at her with wide blue eyes, swallowing. “I-It hurts a little bit. B-But I’ll be okay! It’s Gunter—he said a boy was trying to steal from the kitchen!” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, and that I should come get you and tell you to go there!” 

She lets Felicia lead her to the kitchens where Flora is standing idly near the doorway. At the sight of Arete, she says, “He’s in there,” pointing somewhere beyond the center table. Flora clicks her teeth when she sees Felicia’s scraped knee. Being the girl’s twin, she looks like an alter ego. Same eyes and bobbed hair style, only a different color of the latter. “Again?” 

“That rug has wrinkles….” 

“Flora,” Arete places a hand on her head, stroking her pale blue hair, “please be a dear and help your sister, okay?” 

“But Gunter said…” 

“Well, I’m the queen,” she replies lightly, “and I’m stronger than him. Go help your sister, okay?” 

“O-Okay, Lady Arete.” The two girls then scurry off, despite Felicia’s protests of curiosity. 

In the kitchen stands Gunter who’s guarding a young boy in the corner. He has his wrists tied with a rope in a difficult knot. At the sound of her heels clacking against the smooth stones, Gunter turns to her. “One of the cooks found this urchin trying to steal from the open pantry. The other managed to restrain him while I was called over.” 

“He’s not a threat, Gunter.” 

“The boy needs to learn there’s consequences to his actions, especially against a residence of the royal family.” 

Said boy thrashes about, but Gunter keeps him sitting on the stool. “Lemme go you old windbag!” 

“He’s quite rude, too.” The knight grabs the boy by his collar, hoisting him up and pushing him toward Arete. “Ask forgiveness from her majesty.” 

All he does is glance to the ground, grumbling under his breath. His clothes are tattered, and his short silver hair has dirt and a leaf stuck in it. Grime covers his face, and the tips of his nails are black. He has no shoes, but two socks, and one has a hole in it. 

“What is your name?” Arete asks. 

For the first few seconds he doesn’t respond. She continues to stare at him, and eventually he glances up at her from underneath his lashes. “Jakob,” he mutters. 

“Where is your family, Jakob?” 

“Nowhere,” he replies through gritted teeth. 

“Where have you been living?” 

Jakob shrugs, glancing down at his feet. His lips are in a tight line, and his eyes glisten. “I’m sorry,” he starts softly. “The door was open… and I smelled food. I saw the bread there, and you have a lot. You wouldn’t miss just one roll. I was hungry and—” 

“Stealing is a crime,” Gunter reminds him, “and criminals get punished.” 

“I didn’t know you were here,” Jakob says quickly, still staring down at his feet. “I don’t know what the queen or king look like. I don’t know where I am. I don’t remember the way back home.” He purses his lips, the bottom one quivering. “I’m sorry.” 

“How old are you?” Arete asks gently.

“Nine.” 

She looks up at Gunter. “Oh Gunter, this boy is barely any older than the girls.” 

“Milady, I know what you’re thinking,” the knight starts, “and I have to advise against it. We don’t know where he’s from. What if he has a sickness and it spreads to this whole house? The last thing Nohr needs is another deceased sovereign.” 

“Then I’ll follow Garon’s example: he can learn to serve. But I’m not letting him back out on the streets.” 

“Your majesty…” 

“Have the doctor take a look at him,” Arete says turning around, “before leading him anywhere near our chambers. But if he’s well, then I want him bathed and sent to bed. I’ll deal with this tomorrow morning.” 

She’s not proud of her proposal, but at least one less child is off the streets for the night. 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


It takes some prodding, but eventually Jakob opens up about his situation the next morning. The doctor confirms he’s of decent health; suspicious for a street urchin. She began to put the pieces together once a maid brought up with Arete how his clothes are of fine cloth, despite having been tattered and filthy. 

Food is always a great motivator, along with a comfortable night’s rest. Jakob is in better spirits at the dining table and explains where he actually hails from as he stuffs his face with eggs and potatoes. His anger simmers between bites of food, until he eventually casts his gaze downward, looking almost sad. 

“You’ve been living on the streets for a month?” Arete shakes her head, setting her fork down. “I’m sorry. No child should have to go through that, regardless of their social class.” 

Jakob shrugs, poking at a warm and buttered bread roll. “I don’t care,” he mumbles. “They never paid attention to me anyway. And when they did, they yelled at me. I hate them.” 

His parents are wealthy textile merchants of partially noble lineage, but they’re still well-known enough by other nobles that _someone_ had to have noticed he was missing. Right? 

“Doubtful,” Gunter says as he’s preparing a spare bed in Felicia and Flora’s room later that day. “Like you, I’ve never personally been acquainted, but they’re a rather shallow pair. The husband married the wife only for land, and she only had a child so her mother would stop pestering her about grandchildren. Both of their parents are now deceased, so I suppose losing Jakob wasn’t actually a loss. Think they might’ve had an affair or two, if rumor is true.” 

“But that’s _horrible_ , Gunter,” Arete replies, her nose scrunching. “It’s never the child’s fault.” She lays out some clothes in a pile on Jakob’s new bed, helping to fluff the pillows. 

“It’s how it is here in Nohr.” He makes an uninterested grunt, then turns to her. “Milady, I don’t know how it was in your village, but you’ll find that the aristocrats of this country lack in character where they gain in breeding.” 

“Your opinion sounds set.” 

Gunter finishes tucking in the bedsheets, before he explains, “Not all of noble birth are like that. There are good ones, like the late queen. And nobles who weren’t born into the life, like yourself, aren’t easily corrupted by greed either. But it seems as time goes on, there are less and less like that. Mayhap they’re like this because showing too much consideration or kindness in the wrong areas makes others… ‘worried’.” 

“So being shallow and petty is how to prevent a noble from assassination, is what you’re saying?” 

With a sigh, the old knight stands up straight. “I apologize for my frankness, your grace.”

“It’s quite alright, Gunter. I didn’t say I disagree with you.” She pats his arm reassuringly. “I know it’ll still take some time and a lot of personal effort for Nohr to love me like they did Katerina. But I’ll try to live up to being one of the good nobles, and perhaps be an example others can follow.” 

“If your actions end up becoming the norm for all, then I will dash through the streets of Windmire in my smallclothes.” 

Arete laughs. “Oh, now I _must_ work thrice as hard.” 

“Milady, I’m glad my potential public embarrassment is a motivator,” Gunter replies gruffly, though there’s a hint of a smile quirking at the corner of his lips. 

“You’re much too old to be pouting, sir knight. No offense.” She smooths out the fabric of the pillow case, patting it once more for good measure. “Now, let’s get Jakob settled in. I’ll deal with Garon when we return to the castle, so don’t fret.” 

“Of course.” 

For about another week, Arete continues to study the Dragon Veins around the vacation home. Gunter’s pay is increased as he’s now helping to train three children in the art of household servitude. Azura spends a lot of her time being a practice partner for them, in a manner of speaking. But she seems to enjoy it, having children her age spend time with her. 

Like Felicia, Jakob is absolutely dreadful when it comes to butlery. He accidentally breaks things, makes tea too hot, or adds too much salt to dishes Gunter helps him prepare. Every time Arete thinks perhaps it’s best he be sent home, Jakob all but begs her to not send him back to his family’s mansion. 

“I’ll try harder!” he pleads. “I don’t wanna go back! I hate them!” 

“Jakob, you’re only a boy. You shouldn’t be doing this sort of work; no child should be trained to be a servant.” 

“Queen Arete, I’ll be the best butler ever!” he insists, curling his hands into fists. “I’m treated better _here_ than at my stupid house! A-And, I heard Felicia and Flora say they’re gonna be Princess Azura’s ree-tane-ers, and I don’t know what that is, but if it’s fighting people to protect her, then I’ll do it too! You’ll see!” 

He scurries off and shouts for Gunter to keep teaching him. While she feels bad yet another child is employed into a life of servitude, she can’t imagine how horrible his home is if he’d rather be washing dishes and folding laundry for other nobles. She knows better than to ask Garon to send Jakob back, and the most likely scenario is that he wouldn’t even care. 

When they all return to Krakenburg at the end of the month, it’s the first thing she brings up with him when they’re alone. 

Garon gives a non-committal grunt. “Yes, I know of his family. I saw them last week while you were away, actually. Didn’t have the boy with them—said he perished on a trip a while ago. Seemed very unconcerned as well. In fact, they were rather chipper when explaining to me they managed to get their hands on more purple dye.” 

“That’s a horrible way for parents to react.” 

“I care not for that family.” He waves his hand nonchalantly, as if dismissing the couple’s very existence. “They sell wonderful outfits to other nobles, but we have our own tailors. Keep the boy if you’d like, Arete. His parents clearly don’t give a damn. I’m sure too Azura could use more playmates that aren’t trying to kill her every hour.” 

He rises from his seat, and helps Arete stand. Taking her by the hand, he adds, “I haven’t yet found who tried to ambush our daughter before you left. But rest assured, I’m still working on it.” 

“Thank you, my dear,” she says with a smile. “Azura is already incredibly shy, and she’s so quiet, I never know what’s wrong unless I continuously ask her.” She loops her arm around his when it’s offered. “In fact, I don’t know who to trust outside of her retainers-to-be, and Xander.” 

Arete times her excursions when the tension within the castle can be cut with a knife. Over the years, several more concubines and their children have been murdered, save for about five. She always dreads something bigger is going to happen, seeing as how there are less and less rivals for the throne besides herself. It was only Xander’s panicked dive forward that had Azura spared from a fatality after ‘falling’ down a flight of stairs last they were at the castle. The princeling had been walking the halls with a guard after another sword lesson, and screamed when he saw her begin to tumble. Had he not been there, well, Arete prefers not to ponder on it. 

 _Katerina, I have no idea how you dealt with this rubbish day in and day out…._  

“I’ll have Silas’s mother get into contact with you again.” Garon escorts her out of the study and down the staircase. The smell of cooked herbs and vegetables wafts through the hallways as the kitchens work hard at dinner for the night. “He seems to get along well with her.” 

“Well, last I sat down with his mother, she told me the cutest thing: he said he wishes to be a knight so he can protect Azura ‘for real’.” 

A rare smile finds itself on Garon’s aged face. “Good to know. We can always use more soldiers. It’s not ideal, but I fear she’ll need all the retainers she can get.” 

“I’ll have to concur with that, unfortunately.” 

But the real misfortune comes in the form of a letter, three days after her return. Arete is looking over her notes in her private study when Gunter appears at the doorway. “Milady,” he knocks on the frame, “sorry to interrupt, but I’m afraid it’s urgent.”

“How so?” Arete dips her pen in the inkwell, scribbling down another note before putting it aside. She stands and takes the letter handed to her. The red wax seal has the Hoshidan emblem on it, and she quickly rips it open. Sumeragi never sends letters to her; only Garon, so it can only mean it’s from Ikona. “Oh, no this…”  
  


> _Dearest Arete,_
> 
> _I’m having Yuugiri write this; she’s quite good at neatly scribing in the Midway tongue. For you see, I’m much too weak to do it myself. I want to ask that you visit me in Hoshido as soon as possible. I’m… ill. Sumeragi is doing all he can to help me recover, but nothing seems to be working. My personal attendant, Mikoto, will be going to Izumo soon to study more advanced medicine in order to aid me. But I don’t know if I’ll survive long enough—_

  
And here the letters have a slash through them. No doubt due to Yuugiri’s frustration with Ikona’s pessimistic outlook. Swallowing her worries, Arete keeps reading, the next line a revision of the previous:  
  


> _—for her to return and treat me. There are things I want to tell you, so would it be much of a bother to make the trip here? I know it takes at least three weeks for my letter to get to you, two if the messengers are paid to express it. What I have isn’t contagious; I promise. The healers checked for that. But please, I want to see you one last time, if it will be my last time. I don’t know. I’m not certain of anything at the moment._
> 
> _You can tell Garon, but I’d prefer if you came by yourself. He’s busy as it is, I’m sure. Not that you aren’t, of course. It’s just urgent I see you. I have a proposition that might benefit our kingdoms, you can say. Please, do me this favor, will you?_
> 
> _I look forward to your response._
> 
> _Ikona_

  
With trembling hands, Arete rushes to the throne room. She composes herself before walking in through the door, tucking away the letter in her belt. Idly she stands near a pillar as Garon is having an audience with some merchant, Iago close by, as always. Her lip twitches, and she takes a deep breath. 

Once the merchant is gone, she strolls up to her husband. “My love, there is an urgent matter I wish to discuss with you.” 

Iago makes some noise in between a hum and a scoff. “Now what could be more important than affairs of our economy?” 

“Several things, including your resignation.” Garon gives a slight laugh—more of an amused grunt really, while Iago sputters. Despite never listening to Arete’s suggestions to fire the snake, the king takes no offense whenever she callously does things to spite the tactician. Perhaps he likes to torture him indirectly through her. “This is about Ikona.” 

His smile falters, and he stands slowly from his throne. “Very well. Iago, tell the others waiting I’ll have to speak with them tomorrow.” 

“But my lord, there are at least 20 more who—” 

“Go,” he repeats, stern tone hardening his features. “You’re an advisor. _Advise_ the people to wait until tomorrow.” Garon doesn’t give him a chance to retort, and instead escorts Arete out of the throne room. “What’s this about Ikona?” 

As they walk to the study, she quietly recounts to him the contents of the letter. Once in the privacy of the room, Garon takes a moment to consider her request. “You just got back; I don’t like you gone for long periods,” he points out. “But I cannot be leaving whenever either. If Ikona truly won’t recover…” 

“I have a bad feeling in my gut,” Arete admits. “The regret would never wash away if I didn’t attempt to help. Maybe I can even bring some Nohrian remedies.” 

Stroking his beard, Garon nods. “Very well. But take Azura with you, and the other little ones. Gunter will escort you there along with some infantry and knights. Traveling so far, you can never be too careful.” 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


The journey to the ports takes a week. By ship, another day. Then once they reach the lands of Hoshido, it takes yet another five days, only because Arete refused to stop anywhere except during the night. It would’ve taken two days more on top of that had they done so. When they reach Izumo, it’s only to rest until sunrise. Yukiko doesn’t keep them held up, and gives Arete a special concoction she made to help relieve Ikona of some pain. 

About three days later, they finally arrive in Shirasagi. As they’re ascending the staircase to the castle entrance, Sumeragi is waiting at the top, his arms crossed. “Good afternoon, Lady Arete,” he greets calmly. 

“Lord Sumeragi,” she takes the hand offered to her, but can’t bring herself to smile when a courteous kiss is placed upon it, “thank you for greeting us. I… can’t say my trip has been too enjoyable.” 

“Ikona told me she had sent for you.” The king escorts her into the castle, directing other staff to take Gunter and the rest of the Nohrian convoy to their temporary residencies. “She hasn’t gotten any better, I’m afraid.” 

Other nobles are wandering about the compound, and Sumeragi explains they’re visiting for emotional support. But having so many people around, especially ones who seem to be lavishing in Hoshido’s past-times makes her wonder if there isn’t some ulterior motive. The ones who recognize Arete greet her formally, and others who don’t merely pass her by. Not that she really minds. She’s not here for them, after all. 

Arete withholds a worried groan the closer they get to the royal chambers. She reaches for her bag and slips out a medical text. “I brought this for you,” she drums her fingers along the hard cover, “in hopes it’ll help. Nohrian medicine is somewhat different, but perhaps you might find a remedy. Doesn’t hurt to try.” 

“Thank you.” He takes the book from her and skims through the pages. “The language here is in Midway. Is this a recent edition?” 

“Yes,” she says with a nod. “It was printed last year with updated practices. I actually commissioned it in that language, as translating it into Hoshidan would’ve taken longer. I’m sorry.” 

“No need to apologize.” Sumeragi offers a comforting smile, closing the book and handing it off to Saizo the Fourth. “Please take this to the infirmary so the healers can get to work.” 

With a bow, the ninja disappears in a blink of an eye. “I’ll never get used to that,” Arete says lightly. “Our own assassins are remarkable, but I don’t know if they’re as stealthy as your ninja.” 

“They’re quite impressive, aren’t they? Only a few disappear in smokescreens now.” His smile falls as they walk the hallways and up several flights of stairs to reach Ikona’s room. “I wish you were here under different circumstances.” 

“Me too.” 

He only offers a nod before standing adjacent to the doors of Ikona’s abode. The sliding doors are finely painted with colorful illustrations of birds and flowers. A large doe is on the left panel. Gently Arete strokes it, her stomach curling as she hears the coughing from within. Sumeragi places a warm gloved hand on her back. “It’ll be alright, Arete.”

“Yes, it has to be.” 

She opens the doors and finds Ikona laying on her bed-futon hybrid. Around her are nurses trying to keep her fever down with wash cloths, or praying in a corner for the gods to rid her of the illness. When they see Arete, they stand up and bow, greeting her formally, before leaving the room. Yuugiri remains by Ikona’s bedside, lightly rousing her from her nap. 

“Milady,” she says gently, “Queen Arete has come to see you.” 

“O-Oh?” Ikona turns her head to the doorway, and gives a weak smile. “Arete, you made it.” 

“I rushed as fast as I could.” She hurries over and sits on a nearby stool. Sumeragi leaves them and closes the door behind him. “I…” 

“You don’t need to say anything.” Her face is peppered in sweat, and her skin is a sickly white with tinges of green. “I’m just glad you made it.” Glancing up to Yuugiri, she asks, “May I have a moment alone with Arete, please? You may stand by the door if you wish.” 

“Of course.” Yuugiri grabs her naginata that had been leaning against the wall, and retreats outside. “I am right here if you need anything, milady,” she shouts from the hallway. “Don’t forget.” 

Ikona takes Arete’s hand, and pats it with her other one. Her skin is clammy. “My friend,” she begins in a low voice, “there is something you must know….” 

She holds her breath as Ikona tells her about young Orochi’s fortune. Wanted to keep it a secret so the castle doesn’t panic. Told Yukimura about it, and her attendant Mikoto. Sumeragi doesn’t know, and neither did Yuugiri, until today. 

“I ask you don’t tell anyone else,” she whispers. “It may not look it, but it’s taking all of Yuugiri’s strength to keep herself composed. It’s why I waited so long, when I knew in my heart I wouldn’t have much time left.” 

“Oh…,” Arete strokes her hand, frowning, “Ikona, why would—nothing I can do will help? I brought a text that has Nohrian medicinal practices in it. Maybe your more experienced healers can figure something out.” 

“No.” She smiles sadly. “My time will be up soon. But I do ask that you might stay, until the doctors can determine how I passed.” 

“Please, don’t… you don’t know what you ask of…” 

“You must, if only so you know what it is. This isn’t a sickness anyone has ever had before. Something that causes bleeding when you cough, a horrid fever, dehydration, even vomiting—sometimes I even feel deathly cold, and I can’t hear. My vision gets fuzzy too, and then refocuses.” 

A chill runs through Arete’s spine. She clutches Ikona’s hand, stroking it gently with her thumb. All her symptoms coincide with a complex venom that assassins sometimes use. It’s from the Black Mire mushroom; often confused for a variety of edible mushroom as they’re of similar appearance. Except when the former is crushed, it bleeds a black ooze. Only when combined with a liquid does the poison activate. Made to inflict an excruciatingly slow suffering until impending death. 

Eating a lotus is the only cure for the illness. But both organic life can only survive in Valla. 

 _HE did this. That damn oversized lizard! How did he—those minions. Of course. Invisible abominations!_  

“Arete?” Ikona coughs. “What’s wrong? You look as pale as I do.” 

“I…,” she squeezes her hand again, “how long did you say you had this sickness?” 

“For some weeks now. More than three?” 

It’s too late. Even if Arete could pass through a lake to retrieve a lotus, the flower is worthless if it’s not consumed within ten days. “I’m so sorry,” Arete whispers. “I can’t imagine your suffering, and when I do…” 

“Don’t worry. It’s not contagious.” Ikona coughs again, and Arete rushes for a wash cloth. She wipes the corner of her mouth where a trickle of blood had splattered. “Just listen to what I have to say.” 

She lets the ailing queen speak of matters mentioned in the letter. Ikona explains she’s already recounted everything to Yukimura, should Arete have any further questions. “I didn’t want to further upset Orochi,” she begins weakly, “so I asked her mother for a fortune. One last time. Right before I got sick. And when she was done, she said it’s imperative that Nohr and Hoshido remain on good terms, because the consequences will be dire otherwise. I asked for clarification, but she gave me none. That’s all the fortune said.” 

Ikona pauses, smiling and shaking her head. “Sometimes, I hate those things. They’re always accurate, good or bad. And so I spoke with Yukimura, and Sumeragi—without telling my husband of my demise—and the council agreed to my proposal. A child from our royal family, and one from Nohr’s, will live for a time together to learn the other’s culture. Not the crown princes, of course. But another pair, so they may grow into impeccable diplomats. For a few years, though I don’t know how long. And when they’re young too, so they’re with as little bias as possible.” 

“And you want me to speak to Garon about it?” 

“Yes,” she nods, “please. The fortunes are never wrong, and I do love my Nohrian allies. Internal skirmishes aside, we are at a time of peace, and I want to keep it that way.” 

Swallowing thickly, Arete responds, “Don’t worry, Ikona. I will carry out your wishes when…” Tears prick at her eyes, and she takes a breath. A hand cups her cheek, and she glances at Ikona again. 

“Fear not, my friend,” she soothes. “Even though I will no longer be here, I will be watching over you and all those I hold dear. Please, just do all you can to make sure our nations are safe. I don’t want to see what happens if our alliance ever ends.” 

“Neither do I.” 

Ikona smiles. “I’m a little tired. Would you sing me something, please? Your voice is so lovely….” 

“Y-Yes, of course. Anything.” 

Arete sings a melody she had written herself, one not even Garon has heard yet. Ikona smiles wider, and closes her eyes. A tear streaks down her cheek, and she laughs softly. “Thank you. I’ll keep it with me. Can you please ask Yuugiri to come back in?” 

“Of course.” She stands, but Ikona grabs her hand last minute. “What’s wrong?” 

“I just want to say: good bye, Arete. You are a wonderful queen, and Nohr is lucky to have you. Take care of your precious daughter, and our alliance. It’s been such a pleasure being your friend.” 

She sucks in a sob, and grips Ikona’s hand. “It was an honor being your friend as well.” 

“Good bye, dear Arete.” 

“Good bye, sweet Ikona.” 

The ailing queen lets go of her hand, and sighs. She stares up at the ceiling, another tear trailing down her face. Arete fetches Yuugiri, and the retainer is at the queen’s side. She leaves them alone, shutting the door softly. 

A servant escorts Arete to the guest chambers. Like the royal wing, all walls are made of wood, with the exception of the sliding door leading out, and another to a balcony. The windows have curtains, though usually they don’t. Perhaps the staff thought that a Nohrian would prefer them. Before he leaves, the servant mentions to her that Gunter and the children are down the hallway in the next room. 

Her luggage is already set near the bed with Azura asleep on the duvet. Arete lays down next to her, stroking her hair. “We have to work even harder, my songbird.” She places a gentle kiss on her forehead. “He’s slow, and obviously weak, but it’s the subtleties that will kill us if we’re not vigilant.” 

Dinner that night is served in a room on the same floor. Arete eats with Gunter and the children, while the Nohrian soldiers have their own space for dining. When Arete asks why she can’t eat with Sumeragi, the servant says he wants to dine with his wife and children. The woman leaves with a grim look on her face, and Arete doesn’t bother her more about it. 

In the morning, she’s glad Sumeragi didn’t host her last evening as he normally would. By breakfast time, Ikona leaves the realm after failing to eat even a scoop of rice. The castle is solemn for the remainder of the day, and Sumeragi apologizes to Arete that her trip was for naught. 

“Don’t say that,” she responds, staring off at the sky from her balcony. “Ikona wanted to see me one more time, and tell me she has her affairs in order. That she wants me to help fulfill her wish.”

“The alliance,” he nods, not looking at her, “is something she spoke to me about already. It’d look bad if we didn’t comply with a dying queen’s wishes, wouldn’t it?” 

“Yes. Though I need to discuss it with Garon.” 

“I’ve already had a letter sent to him; I’d like him to be present at her funeral if he can make it. She told me of the last fortune she got, about the importance of our countries remaining allies.” 

She doesn’t know if Orochi’s family can see glimpses of Anankos’s impending wrath, but she knows in her gut that’s what the fortune must’ve spoke of. “Ikona wants to keep the peace as long as possible, and I’m in agreement.” 

“As we all are.” 

Before he can offer anything of comfort or substance, a guard reports to him that Ikona’s attendant, Mikoto, has returned. He’s dismissed, and Sumeragi escorts Arete down to the ground floor. “Mikoto is a phenomenal healer,” he compliments. “It’s only a shame that she’s still just human, and couldn’t offer a solution.” 

“I’m sure she tried her best. Were they close?” 

“Yes. You could even say Mikoto was like a confidant to Ikona—told her things that Yuugiri wouldn’t understand, as far as I know. Or things I wasn’t meant to hear. I think she needed somebody around her age to have a friend in. Mikoto is rather well-spoken, surprisingly.” 

They walk through the empty hallways, a few servants passing them by with frowns on their faces. It’s almost as if they’re in a trance as they walk. Ikona’s death will leave a scar on the kingdom, no doubt. “Is she a noble?” 

“No, actually,” he opens the door to the throne room, “she’s from a farming village west of here. About a week’s trip, I think.” 

In the room a woman weeps, running a hand through her long dark hair. A guard tries to calm her down, but she just turns around aimlessly, seemingly distraught over the queen’s demise. She keeps ranting things under her breath in Hoshidan. 

“Mikoto,” Sumeragi starts, walking toward her, “I’m so sorry you had to return to this.” 

“What is—,” she sobs, “first they tell me I need to hurry because of—and then when I get here, Lady Ikona has…!” Her eyes widen as she stares at Arete. “I…” 

She stares back, eyes tracing the contours of her face, and the weariness of her brown eyes. Her hair has gotten considerably longer, down to the middle of her back. But her face still holds that noble innocence, yet her once soft hands hands are now roughened to a life of hard work. 

 _No… is it really…?!_  

“Ah, of course. Pardon me.” Sumeragi clears his throat. “This is Queen Arete of Nohr. She’s here as a courtesy to Ikona. Arete, this is Mikoto, the woman I was speaking about earlier.” 

“Qu… Queen Arete?” Karuna— _Mikoto_ bows slowly, never taking her eyes off her sister. “It’s… I…” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she replies softly, forcing a joyful sob to remain in her chest, “Mikoto.” 

_The sliver of light from storm clouds. At last. Praise the gods!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Were you guys expecting this chapter to be about Kamui instead? Nope, not yet!
> 
> Poor Ikona has died, but Arete and Mikoto finally found each other. Something good always comes from something bad, like Yukiko had said. Their reunion is finally here! And at this point in the story, I will no longer be using the pattern of groups of 5 chapters for each character's POV. It's now whatever is relevant in the current timeline of events. So more POVs from other characters are coming! Mikoto and Arete just have the most, is all.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	17. XVII

With her mama gone to Izumo, Kamui is left in the hands of the castle staff. Yuugiri is too busy tending to Ikona, so the young girl aimlessly wanders around. Other people are visiting the ailing queen, the people with the fancy colorful clothes and friends of the king. She goes up to them and says hello, but they either ignore her or give her an upturned nose before walking away. 

“Oh, okay. Bye!” she says, waving.

Kamui eventually ends up outside a room on the third floor, peeking through the slant of the door. Takumi is sitting in his seat, rocking his legs back and forth. He has a paper and brush in hand as Yukimura teaches him how to write. 

The girl sits outside the room, against the wall of the hallway. She pulls at a thread from her pants, slowly watching it slip out and undo the seam at the bottom. Her bare feet are dirty from padding along the floorboards of the castle, but she never minds it. 

“Now what are you doing out here?” Yukimura’s voice comes from the door. He smiles down at Kamui, his study materials in his arms. “And where are your sandals, little Kamui?” 

“I don’t like them,” she says plainly, shrugging. Kamui hops to her feet and asks, “Is Takumi done? Can we play now?” 

“Yes, he’s done for the day.” The man pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Prince Takumi, somebody is here to see you.” 

A gasp sounds from the room, followed by a scurry of footsteps. “Is it Kamui?!” He rushes to the door and when he sees the girl, he grins wide. “Kamui!” 

“Takumi!” She waves happily. “Can you play now?” 

Nodding, he takes her by the hand, “Let’s go!” and drags her away down the staircase. Yukimura’s pleas of caution are lost to them as they giggle through the hallways. Takumi ignores any of the fancy people that greet him, dragging his friend down to the gardens. 

When they get there, they quite literally bump into the twins: Saizo the Fifth and Suzukaze, the sons of Saizo the Fourth. Only around 10 years of age the both of them. Physically identical in every way except for the color of their hair. 

“Lord Takumi,” little Saizo says, bowing. He looks a lot like his papa with his dull red hair. It’s messy and loose, “be careful. You could get hurt.” 

“Sorry!” he apologizes. “I was just gonna play with Kamui!” 

“Oh.” Saizo looks to the girl, blinking. “Okay. Do you know where your brother is?” 

“Ryoma? Uh,” Takumi looks up to the sky, tilting his head, “no…. I think he said he was gonna train.” 

The young ninja turns to his younger twin to say, “I’m gonna find Lord Ryoma. Good luck.” Suzukaze doesn’t reply, only stares as his brother disappears around the corner. 

“Um,” the other young ninja begins. He looks more like his mama with his verdant green hair, “are you going to play today, Lord Takumi, Kamui?” Like his twin, his locks are carelessly left in a mess. 

She giggles, and nods. “Yeah! We’re just gonna go in the garden and play with the ball. Do you wanna play, Kaze?” 

“N-No, I…,” he looks away, “my father says I have to be here, to look after you. It’s uh, my first job.” 

“Oh, okay!” She takes his hand and the three of them continue making their way to the garden. “You can do it Kaze! But if you want to play, you can! Right, Takumi?” 

The young prince nods. “Yeah.” 

For a while Kamui and Takumi play in the garden closest to the backside of the castle. With her mama gone, they’re— _she_ isn’t allowed to explore any further, or she might get lost. Takumi can’t play anywhere else without supervision, just in case there’s another attempted kidnapping like what happened to Ryoma a few years ago. Kaze watches the two from the tree he’s perched on, hidden by the leaves and shade. 

It’s when the sun is the hottest in late afternoon that a servant brings them a basket of tangerines. Kamui laughs and hurries to it, taking one and handing it to Takumi. “Yay! Let’s stop and eat!” She takes another and looks around, sniffing the air. “Kaze!” She throws it to the tree as hard as she can, and the little ninja awkwardly fumbles to catch it, nearly falling off his perch. 

Kamui and Takumi sit on the wooden terrace, overlooking the ball that rests in the dirt near the pond. Kaze doesn’t join them. Pieces of tangerine peels plop to the floor where he’s hiding out in the safety of the tree. 

She picks at a lock of hair at the back of Takumi’s head. He giggles, swatting her hand away. “Stop!” 

“But it’s so soft!” She pats it. “Like a chicken! Your hair is nice.” 

“Your hair is nice too, like… uh…,” his brow scrunches as thinks, “…like it’s shiny like the water, but it’s black. Like ink.” 

“Ink isn’t nice like a chicken.” 

“But you can make nice pictures with it.” 

Kamui grins. “Thanks!” She reaches for another tangerine, and gasps happily. “Oh look, Taku! There’s a peach!” Kamui wipes her sticky hands on her shirt and reaches for the peach. But it gets snatched up by a slightly older boy, and he’s wearing fancy clothes like some of the visiting adults. She doesn’t know his name. He stares at her, raising an eyebrow. “Hey! That’s mine! I was gonna share it!” 

“Finders keepers,” he says with a hum. “This peach is really big. Would you like some?” 

“Yeah!” 

The boy rips open the peach and hands it to his friends standing by. He tosses the core at Kamui’s head. “Ow!” She rubs where it had hit, and pouts at him. 

“Hey,” Takumi stands up, “that’s not nice!” 

“You shouldn’t be playing with a peasant,” the boy says. “We’ve been looking for you, Lord Takumi. You’re supposed to be playing with _us._ ” 

“But Kamui was my friend first!” 

“She’s weird,” another boy says, his nose scrunching. “Why’re your eyes like that?” 

“Like how?” Kamui rubs at her eyes. “I can see.” 

“Yeah but they look like a snake’s. Red, like evil. Are you a snake? Are you evil?” 

“I’m not ee-vul!” She stands up now, hands curled into fists. “I-I like my eyes! Mama told me look like roo-bees!” 

“But you _have_ to be evil,” the first boy says with a grin. She decides his name is Mean Boy, and she doesn’t like him, “because only monsters have triangle ears like yours.” 

Kamui covers her ears with her hands, and frowns, stepping back. Takumi puffs his cheeks and pulls her away. “Let’s go keep playing. You stupids can have the tangerines.” As they walk back to where their ball is, Mean Boy snatches it up. 

“You know what _my_ mama says?” He dusts the ball off. “She thinks you’re a demon ‘cause you look like one.” 

“No!” Kamui stomps up to him, fists at her sides. “I’m not! I’m a hew-mun!” 

“But Lord Takumi doesn’t have triangle ears. None of us do. Or eyes like a snake. Does your mama have ears like yours? Or eyes? What about your four pointy teeth? The four I have aren’t that sharp.” 

She bites her lip, staring at the ground. Her toes wiggle in the hot dirt. “No…. Mama doesn’t have my ears and eyes, or my teeth….” 

“Then you’re a demon.” 

“Stop it!” she shouts, glaring at him. “I’m not!” 

“You’re gonna curse Lord Takmui if you keep playing with him.” Mean Boy tosses the ball between his hands. “You hate Lord Takumi?” 

Kamui shakes her head furiously, her bobbed hair rustling with the motions. “No! H-He’s my friend!” 

“Do you hate Queen Ikona? What if you cursed her? What if you got her sick?” 

“No!” Kamui cries. “She’s nice! I didn’t get her sick! I-I’ve never ever been sick! I like Miss Ikona! She gives me sweets and her hair is a pretty pink!” 

“Leave her alone!” Takumi shouts, shoving him. “I like Kamui! She’s not evil; she’s really nice and shares food!” 

Mean Boy falls onto the ground, and the ball rolls away. “Don’t you know, milord?” he growls. “It’s not nice to push!” He gets up and shoves the young prince onto the ground. Takumi stares at his dirty hands. They’re red, with a few raw lines of blood. 

He begins to sob, “Ow… it hurts…,” trying to wipe it on his clothes. 

Kaze rushes down to the ground, holding out a wooden kunai. “Stop!” 

“Oh, it’s the green ninja,” one of the other boys says. “Shouldn’t you be training? Isn’t your papa gonna get mad ‘cause you were eating and playing? We’re gonna tell if you attack us. We’re no-buls, like my mama says. You can’t hurt us; you’ll get in trouble.” 

With a huff, Kaze puts away his wooden kunai, glaring at the cluster of fancy children. He runs to the ball where it had rolled under the terrace. 

“Aww, you see,” Mean Boy walks up to Kamui, smirking, “you cursed Lord Takumi! He got hurt because of you!” 

“No you did that!” She shoves him and he falls again on his back. “And I’m not gonna let you hurt my friend!” The other boys rush toward her, trying to pin her down. She thrashes about, biting them and scratching. They cry out but keep fighting, until Mean Boy pushes her face first into the dirt. 

“Don’t touch me!” he shouts, kicking dirt into her face. “Demon!” 

Takumi tries to rush toward them, but the second boy blocks him. Kaze intervenes, and is stopped by the third kid pushing him away. He takes out his wooden kunai again, but the kid only taunts him about the consequences of hurting nobility. 

“Monster!” shouts Mean Boy, still kicking dirt at Kamui. She covers her head with her arms. “You don’t talk back to a noble!” He takes a pebble and throws it at her, ignoring Takumi’s shouts to leave her alone. “Your stupid triangle ears and ugly eyes! Gross sharp teeth! You’re gonna curse everybody!” He laughs, throwing a twig at her. “Weirdo!” 

Kamui screams, and she sees bright blue light in her eyes. Her voice echoes as she cries out, “Leave me _alone!_ ” A tiny roar escapes her mouth and her limbs break and reassemble, body glowing an ethereal teal. 

Her bones hurt. Something behind her back swishes wildly and she wobbles to stand. The air around her brushes her skin and the birds are loud in her ears. She smells the pond nearby and the tangerine peels from the base of the tree. Then the voice that she hates rings in her ears, and Takumi cries, telling him to stop. Kaze tries to fight one of the boys off, but he sounds like he’s struggling with them. 

Growling, Kamui bucks around, charging toward Mean Boy. His scent is gross, but she knows it’s definitely him. He screams and tries to run away, but she lunges at him, swatting him in the face with her hand.

It smells like metal and something drips on the tips of her fingers. The boy screams out another cry, sobbing. 

“NO!” she roars. “LeAvE tHeM aLoNe!”

All around her are more screams but she can’t see anything. She can only see colors—red and yellow and orange. Some green and a lot of blue. A few purples. She follows the big red blob that smells like Mean Boy and knocks him down again. Takumi is still crying and Kaze is shouting. The other boys are calling her a monster and screaming for help. 

“Hey! Why is my little brother crying? What did you do?!” Another warm blob bounds into the yard, shoving away the other boys and helping up Takumi. A second blob is standing next to him, scolding Kaze. 

“Takumi are you—w-what is _that?_ ” 

“Get back, milord!” The other blob jumps in front of him. “Kaze! What happened?! You were supposed to watch them!” 

She knows those voices. And those smells. _S… Sai… zo…._

“What did you _do?!_ ” the first voice shouts, tackling one of the bully blobs. “Where is Kamui?!” 

“That monster!” the bully shrieks, pointing. 

_R… Ryo… ma…._  

Kamui trudges toward them but she’s shoved back by Saizo with something like a long stick, and the other blobs scurry off, crying. Only four are left, huddled against a tree. “Stay back!” 

Takumi blubbers, “K-Kamui…!” 

“Please, you must listen first!” Kaze says to his brother. 

She tries to speak, but only a weird sound comes out. Like a little bear or a tiger. A deer. _Ta… ku… mi…._ Her mouth feels funny, like she can open it wider, and swallow a big watermelon. _Ka… ze…._  

Her head rings, then her body rushes forward, crashing into the terrace. Her legs wobble and she hears the gentle flicks of bugs landing in water. Kamui runs toward it and splashes about in the pond. Her stomach growls and she sees another blob in the water. She dives for it, swallowing it whole. It feels slimy. 

Other voices begin yelling and shouting—like adults, and Yukimura, and then hands on are on her, pulling her out of the water. They’re talking so fast and so loud, it’s too much. There’s more crying and then she feels ropes around her neck and limbs. Kamui thrashes as a lot of arms circle her, and slowly the noises stop. Only the rustle of the breeze fills her ears, and hurried footsteps. The colors around her get darker.

It’s cool now, and quieter, and she can’t see a lot of warm colors anymore. It smells like wet. She’s pushed into a square? Or a box. It has stones around, and it smells like hay. Kamui wobbles toward the beam of warm colors and lays down. She buries her face in the hay nearby. 

_Ma… ma…._

There’s no noise, except for some soft voices outside, and then she sleeps.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


One minute he’s training with Saizo, dodging all the rocks thrown at him. Next thing he knows, he hears shouts and screams nearby, and his baby brother crying. Both of them rush toward the sound, his practice katana gripped tightly in his hand. 

In the play area near the terrace, Takumi is on the floor, tears staining his dirty cheeks. Kaze is yelling at the other noble boys there, and one is on the floor with some weird growling  _thing_ on top of him. Where is Kamui? She should be here too. Saizo had said earlier she was playing with Takumi. 

Ryoma rushes toward his little brother and helps him stand, demanding to everyone around what happened and where his friend is. Saizo yells at his twin for not doing a better job like their father had asked. The other noble boys screech and point at the thing on top of their friend. He knows him from the birthday celebrations Ryoma has. He always comes over, even though he’s never really that nice. His name is Genkei, or something. 

Genkei has claw marks on his cheek, and they’re bleeding. That thing attacked him, and he yells about a ‘monster’ and ‘demon’. No matter how much Ryoma shouts at him to tell him what’s going on and what did he do to Takumi, Genkei only shakes his head and cries, pointing at the thing. He runs away with his friends, tripping as they scurry onto the terrace and inside the castle. 

“Where is Kamui?” Ryoma asks Takumi gently. But his little brother only buries his face in his side, small hands clutching the fabric of his training outfit. 

“L-Lord Ryoma,” Kaze speaks up, “she’s right there.” He points to the thing on wobbly legs. Underneath it are shreds of clothing, clothes that Ryoma saw Kamui wearing in the morning. It begins to walk toward them but Saizo jumps in front, shoving it back with a long stick. The thing crashes into stuff, like it can’t see, before running toward the pond and jumping in it. The thing swallows a frog whole and splashes around in the water. 

Takumi sniffs, reaching out a small hand to the creature. “K-Kamui…! That’s… Kamui!” 

Around them guards rush to the garden, and Yukimura too. Genkei and his mother are watching from a corner. His cheek isn’t bleeding anymore, but he’s shaking, looking at the thing—looking at _Kamui_ in fear. The woman has an arm around her son, keeping him close to her side. 

“You’re going to do something, right?!” she shrieks. 

“Lady Nanako,” Yukimura pleads, keeping her away from the garden, “I will speak to King Sumeragi about this. Rest assured that—” 

“I _knew_ that girl wasn’t right!” The woman’s lips puff out like a fat red beetle. “She’s a _monster._ Slay her before she grows any older and wreaks havoc on our peaceful lives!” 

The guards have tied up Kamui in ropes, and she cries out with small sounds. Like a deer in danger, but it also sounds like a bear cub. Ryoma’s never heard it before. She has a tail almost like a lizard’s. Her hands look like a lizard’s too, but they’re arranged like his—five fingers with the thumb on the side. Like a human hand, just… scaly. With claws. 

Yukimura quickly tells them to go around the back and take her to the cells. The guards hold onto her tight as she wriggles in their arms like a fish out of water, and then they disappear. 

Everything happens so quickly, Ryoma can’t even think straight. He and Takumi are taken back inside the castle and to their rooms. Saizo and Kaze are gone, something about needing to talk to their father. One of the guards stands outside Ryoma’s room. He shouts to let him out, but he’s forced back inside every time. 

It isn’t until dinner that he gets a chance to find some answers. 

“Father,” he starts, “what _was_ that earlier?” 

Sumeragi quietly eats his share of grilled fish. Takmui is huddled up next to Hinoka, holding onto her sleeve. He’s staring at a grain of rice that fell on the table. “Takumi, aren’t you gonna eat?” Hinoka asks. “It’s good.” 

He shakes his head. “I’m not hungry.” Takumi glances at his father before looking away. “Papa,” he begins, “what happened to Kamui?” 

The king crosses his arms before letting out a defeated huff. “This was bound to happen sooner or later,” he explains. “Your friend isn’t like normal children. She’s something else, though I don’t quite know what.” 

“She looks like a deer, kinda,” Ryoma jumps in. He pokes at a clump of vegetables at the side of his bowl. “Or her legs do. Her neck is long, and she has hands and feet like a lizard. A tail too. But she has no eyes—or I couldn’t see any. And she has little nubs on her head, like if horns are gonna grow there.” 

“What?” Hinoka leans over the table. “What happened to Kamui? Why don’t I know?! Why didn’t you tell me? I wanna see!” 

“Hinoka,” Sumeragi looks to his daughter, “please. This isn’t something to speak of like if your brothers had seen a cute animal and didn’t tell you. Kamui isn’t entirely like us: she’s only half-human, and until now, we never knew what her other half was.” 

“So you knew this whole time she wasn’t normal?” Ryoma narrows his eyes at his father. “Why didn’t you say anything? What if she hurt Takumi?” 

“No!” The boy shakes his head. “Sh-She was trying to protect me and Kaze! From those bullies! But they kept being mean to her and Genkei was kicking her and calling her a demon! She got really mad and then turned into that! Her voice sounded weird, but she said to him to leave us alone.” 

“I see.” Sumeragi eats undisturbed for a solid minute. “She transformed in a rage, trying to protect her friends. Well, I suppose that’s one bright side to all of this.”

“ _Father_ ,” Ryoma tries again, “what’s going on? You said I’m gonna be king one day, so how can I be a good king if I don’t know what’s happening? What is Kamui?”

All the adults keep things from him. Like when his mother got sick, and still nobody is telling him if she’s going to live or die. Just because he’s 11 doesn’t mean he shouldn’t be told things. He’s old enough now to handle adult things. Soon he’ll be using a real sword to fight, and only experienced grownups can use weapons made out of metal. Weapons that can kill people. 

“I don’t know,” his father says. Ryoma growls in frustration. “Listen to me, son. The first thing you need to know about handling unexpected situations is to keep a calm mind. If you don’t, the situation could turn bad. I promise I’ll let you know what happens when we find out more information.” 

That’s all he can get from his father before dinner is over. Hinoka’s ninth birthday is next month, and Sumeragi has been busy organizing for it since Ikona can’t. Their dinners have been short recently because of that, and because his mother is sick. Ryoma huffs as he’s sent to his room again, and vows he’ll get to the bottom of this himself. 

Saizo the Fourth leaves the castle that week. Ryoma knows it’s to go bring back Miss Mikoto from Izumo where she’s trying to learn better medicine to help Ikona. He doesn’t know where _his_ Saizo is, though. Or Kaze. Maybe they went home. But Kagero is there with him as they sneak down to the prison cells underneath the castle. She’s the same age as Saizo, and they’re both ninja training to be Ryoma’s retainers when they’re older.

“Milord,” she says when they’re halfway there, “are you sure you can do this?” 

“I need to know, and my father isn’t telling me anything. It’s been five days since Kamui turned into that deer-thing.”

“Yes but…,” she pulls her yellow scarf tighter around her, “I don’t want you to get in trouble.” Her dark brown bangs kind of slip out from where they’re being held by a hair clip. “And I need to protect you. That also means making sure you don’t get in trouble by not listening to the king.” 

“Well I promise I’ll put all the blame on me,” he replies. “Retainers need to listen to their liege, right?” 

“Right.” 

“Then you won’t get in trouble, ‘cause it’ll be my fault.” 

“If you’re sure, then, okay.” 

When they reach the cells, two guards stand in front of the passage leading to where Kamui is being kept. Only a pair of dim torches are lit in the hallway. “Young master,” the one to the right begins, “you shouldn’t be down here.” 

“Father said I could,” he lies, “because he’s busy and wants me to check up on the thing. I need to start being more independent, is what he said. And Kagero is here with me in case something bad happens. But I can tell him you told me no, and then you’ll have to speak with him later. Interrupt him when he’s busy. Do you want me to leave? I can. Just give me your names and I’ll tell him for you.” 

The guards look at each other, their brows scrunched in worry. The left solider bites his lip, and then says, “Very well. Just don’t get too close.” 

Ryoma inwardly sighs they believed his bluff. Kagero follows him to the corner cell where Kamui is sleeping. She’s curled on top of a pile of hay, right underneath a sunbeam. Her sides puff in and out as she breathes. In the sunlight, her light gray scales shimmer in different colors. ‘Iridescent’, is what the word is. Yukimura had him memorize more sophisticated words last lesson. 

“She does look like a deer,” Kagero whispers. “But she has scales and a lizard’s hands and feet. A tail too. And her jaw is… not like an animal I’ve seen before.” The girl looks to her liege with large brown eyes. “Milord, I think she might be a dragon.” 

“I’ve never seen a dragon like that,” he whispers back. “All the pictures I’ve seen—even the ones from Nohr, they don’t look like that.” 

“Maybe this is a new dragon breed?”

He shakes his head. “Maybe; I don’t know. And only kitsune and wolfskin can turn into beasts. But obviously she’s not that. So, what is she?” 

Slowly he approaches the cell, and the guards watch him carefully. Lightly he bangs on the metal bars with a rock, and Kamui stirs from her sleep. Her head droops and bobs, then she shakes it. Puffs come from her nostrils (does she have any?) and she sniffs the air. Immediately the guards are at his side, naginatas pointed toward her. Kamui makes a noise from her throat and scurries off to the darkest corner of the cell. Her body is huddled in a lump, tail wrapping around her legs. 

“Has she eaten?” Ryoma asks. “It’s been five days.” 

“No, Prince Ryoma. But we’re not even really sure what she—hey, m-my keys!” 

Ryoma ignores them, unlocking the cell. He’s seen animals huddle like that before. Both when he joins his father in hunting, or when he passes by a stray cat or dog. They’re scared, and feel trapped. Kamui inches further back against the stone corner, making a tiny beastly whine. Even from within the shadow, he can tell that she’s trembling. 

“Milord!” Kagero whisper-shouts. “What are you doing?!” 

From his sleeve he takes out a pink peach. It was the biggest he could find in the kitchens today, and he knows how much Kamui loves peaches. “She’s hungry,” he says simply. 

The little dragon stops trembling, but still remains motionless. Watching him. Or at least he thinks she is. Ryoma slowly approaches her, and crouches along the spot where the sunbeam hits. “I got this for you,” he says. “You like peaches, right Kamui?” 

“K…,” she starts, and groans, “K…aMuI?” 

“Yeah, you remember your name, right? You’re Kamui, my friend. And your mother is Mikoto, but she’s out right now in Izumo studying medicine to help my mother, Queen Ikona.” 

“P… eAcH.” Kamui waddles over to Ryoma, inch by inch, sniffing the air. “…LiKe… pEAcheS….” Her mouth doesn’t move as she speaks. 

“They’re good, huh?” He smiles, still holding out the fruit to her. “I got you this because I know you like them. Wanna sit down next to me? I also have some tangerines and a daikon radish if you want it. I couldn’t get any sweets though.”

Kamui perks up, and keeps walking toward him. The guards watch intently from the edge of the cell, and Kagero holds her breath. The little dragon sits in the sunbeam, sniffing the peach. “I… cAn… hAve…?” 

“Yeah, it’s yours!” Ryoma grins at her and keeps it suspended in his palm. Kamui nibbles at the edge of the fruit before taking it from him and tossing it upward, gobbling it in one gulp. She doesn’t chew, only swallows. Like he had seen an alligator do on one of his hunting trips. Kamui sniffs around his sleeves, and he chuckles. “Okay, I have more.” 

“Food….” 

He takes out the tangerines and daikon, splaying them out on the hay. Kamui swallows the fruit first—even the skins, and then bites off pieces of the radish. Some faint blue light glows from the back of her mouth as she swallows the pieces. Droplets of water sprinkle out of her jaw. Her tail gently swishes back and forth along the stone floor, brushing the hay away in the process. She sniffs around his face, and huffs lightly at his hair. Ryoma reaches out and strokes her jaw. It doesn’t have an end, almost like it’s attached—like a puppet’s jaw. Maybe that blue light water stuff helps her eat? 

Kamui gasps, and her tail swishes faster on the ground. “Ryo… Ryoma!” Her voice echoes, but at least it doesn’t sound like a monster anymore. 

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m here, Kamui.” He keeps stroking her jaw and then moves his hands down along her neck. The scales are cool to the touch, and somewhat soft. There are harder, larger scales at the back of her neck, arranged together almost like a spine. “Are you okay?” 

“Takumi,” she starts, standing on all fours, “is in trouble!” 

“No, no he’s fine now!” Ryoma jumps to his feet, and soothingly pets her smooth head. “Those bullies are gone, and they can’t hurt you anymore.” 

“Kaze?” 

“He’s fine too. Thank you for defending them, Kamui. I wasn’t there to help, so you did a good thing.” 

“Really?” She angles at her head up at him. “I’m happy.” She presses the top of her head against Ryoma’s chest. “I’m tired, and my arms and my legs hurt. Ryoma… I can’t see.” 

“You… don’t have eyes,” he says quietly. 

“Oh. But I can see colors, like,” she steps back, tilting her head, “you’re red and orange and a little yellow. The corner over there is blue. And the hay right here is green. I know it’s hay because it smells and feels like it. You also smell like the kitchen. But I can’t see. I can only see colors and wobbly shapes. Ryoma, am I sick?”

“Uh, n-no you’re not sick. Just uh…,” he pets her head, “I’ll go get you some more food, okay?” 

“Okay. Please come back. You’re warm, and I’m cold.” 

“I can bring a blanket?” 

Kamui nods, her tail swishing. Along her back is a pair of small gray wings, too small for her to fly. He wonders if they’ll get bigger when she ages. Only dragons have wings and scales, so Kagero must be right. This is what she is: a dragon. A weird-looking dragon, but a dragon all the same. 

Now the only question is, how can he help her change back?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Er, so writing in Kamui's POV was actually _super_ tricky for me. I wasn't... sure if I should keep a formal tone, or go with something more juvenile so it sounds closer to a child's voice rather than a general narration. I tried to make it a combination of the two instead.
> 
> So this is one of the few times I would like some feedback in the comments: what do you guys think? Keep it formal, or write it more child-like?
> 
> I also took creative liberties again, this time with her dragon form. We don't actually get much information in the game canon how it works, so I improvised here. I always thought the Avatar's dragon form was kinda creepy-looking. Sort of like it's meant to be designed after like... a deer's skeleton or something. Just looks eerie. But the overall design also somehow looks graceful.
> 
> And yay, we get Ryoma's first POV! He'll have a couple more too. Forgot how many I wrote. This chapter also marks the beginning of having more than one POV character per chapter. But there are still chapters where just one character has a POV, so look forward to that.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	18. XVIII

Mikoto holds her breath as if staring death square in the face. 

_F-Freya… at last. At last! Praise the gods!_  

Her joy is short-lived, however, when a guard mumbles to her about Kamui’s transformation. “Oh, my daughter. Y-Yes.” She bows politely to Frey—Arete, and says, “I’m sorry, your majesty. There is something I must attend to.” 

“That’s fine.” Arete smiles, her hands clasped together in front of her. “But perhaps later we could talk over tea? Queen Ikona was a dear friend, and I was told that you were close to her. I’d like to get to know the woman who was by her side and supporting her even into her last days.” 

“Of course.” 

Ikona has passed, and it’s a tragedy Mikoto will never forget. It’ll remain a scar on her heart, and only enhance the worry budding in the back of her mind. First Katerina, then Ikona. Who next? Garon? Sumeragi? And now that Arete is queen of Nohr… 

Mikoto shakes her head. _No, I can’t be so negative when a silver lining has shown through the dark gray clouds. For now, I must focus on Kamui._  

She goes to her room first to retrieve the dragonstone, and then hurries with the guard to the prison cells down below the castle. Mikoto bites her tongue at asking why her daughter is being treated like a felon, though she can also understand the panic that would spread if a strange ‘monster’ were loose in Shirasagi. 

To her surprise, Ryoma is there in the cell, petting the head of a deer-shaped creature. It’s definitely a dragon, judging by the wings and the reptilian hide. Just not like one she’s ever seen in illustrations. Nohrian, Hoshidan, or even Vallite. Anankos definitely doesn’t look like that. But then again, he’s said to not even have ‘normal’ draconic anatomy. She’s only ever seen his rotating eyes on some axis, and dragons don’t have such things. 

Her daughter too, then, must not be ‘normal’, even for dragon standards. Anankos has many eyes, and yet poor Kamui seems to have none at all. 

“Prince Ryoma?” Mikoto hesitantly walks into the cell. “What are you doing?” 

“Feeding her,” he says, patting a basket of fruit next to Kamui. “Nobody was giving her food, so I did. Father doesn’t know I come down here,” the guards sputter for some reason, “but I had to see. I don’t like not being told things. Like… whether or not Mother was…” 

She sits next to him on the pile of hay. Kamui is asleep, back toward the sun. Ryoma swallows, his eyes shimmering with tears. “It’s not fair. Mother was a good person. Why did…?” 

“I don’t know.” Mikoto takes his hand, and squeezes it gently. “But I’m sorry, milord.” 

“Is Father going to die?” he asks, without looking at her. “I heard Queen Katerina died a few years ago. Mother died, and now what if Father does? That’s too close that she died and then Mother—two years, uh, I think. Why the royals? What if somebody is out to get us?” 

He’s not wrong, if her hunch is correct. But it’d be cruel to leave that burden of a worry on an 11-year-old’s shoulders. “Queen Katerina was killed on purpose,” Mikoto replies. “Your mother got sick; that’s different.” 

“But how?” Ryoma looks up at her with curious yet sad brown eyes. “She’s been sick for a long time, and nobody else got sick when she was still alive.” He sniffs, wiping at his eyes with his fist. “I asked Father, and he said he doesn’t know. I don’t know a lot about medicine either, but I still wanna know.” 

“I do too,” she replies, combing her fingers through his short brown hair, “and I’m sure we’ll find out eventually how she got sick.” 

Kamui stirs from her sleep and makes a small groan. She lays on all fours and shakes her head, then sniffs the basket of fruit. She takes a peach from the top of the pile and swallows it whole. Ryoma pets her head. “She was talking before,” he comments. “Now she doesn’t.” 

“How long ago was this?” 

The boy shrugs. “I think she stopped three days ago. She makes animal sounds, like if she wants to talk, but can’t. And when she could talk, she told me how she ‘sees’. Like, she can’t actually see things, but shapes in colors. This cell is mainly blue, but I’m red, orange, and yellow. She didn’t want me to leave ‘cause I’m warm.” 

“Warm? Colors?” Mikoto frowns, reaching out toward Kamui. Her child sniffs at her hand, and then her tail swishes back and forth along the floor. “What’s she doing? What does that mean?” 

“Happy. She knows it’s you, I think.” Ryoma holds up a pear, and Kamui chomps off half of it. Then she takes the rest of it in her hinge-like jaw, dissolving it in her mouth with some strange shimmering water. Perhaps a substitute for saliva. 

“I think,” Kamui lays her head on Mikoto’s lap, “I think she can only ‘see’ temperature,” the woman guesses. “Warm things are usually people and animals; wherever there’s heat, too. Or at least that’s what I assume. Most things are in some combination of cool colors, perhaps. But if she can’t even speak—can she even turn back? What if I’m too late?” 

Mikoto takes out the dragonstone and presses it against Kamui’s clawed hands. Her daughter looks down at it, tilting her head. The stone glows, and Kamui groans. “Ma…,” she starts softly, “ma…,” but it sounds contorted and echoes. She doesn’t transform back, only lays her head again on Mikoto’s lap. 

“No… no why isn’t this working?” She strokes the dragon’s neck. “I… I thought it was supposed to work. Why would he give it to me otherwise?” 

“Who?” 

“Oh, um,” Mikoto takes the stone, “this. Her father gave this to me, but I don’t know who he is. Didn’t tell me what this stone was for. Only that she might need it.” Another pain pricks between her brow. Groaning, she continues, “I’m scared I’m too late, that it won’t work anymore. She’s not turning back.” 

It was foolish to not at least tell Sumeragi where the dragonstone was while she was away. What if Kamui will be like this forever? Her intelligence reduced to a mere animal’s, and worst of all, she can’t even properly see. Will she spend all her life down here? In this dark cell? What if Anankos’ madness spreads to her too? What if she’s in pain and can’t articulate it because she doesn’t even know what’s going on? 

“My sweet Kamui,” Mikoto cups the dragon’s face in her hands, thumbs stroking the soft scales, “I’m so sorry….” 

Ryoma stands up and walks away. “Is Lady Arete still here?” 

“The Nohrian queen?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I saw her before coming here.” 

Nodding, he says, “I’m gonna go get her.” 

“Why?” 

“Mother had said that when Lady Arete sings, it heals people.” She’s sure Ikona meant it only figuratively. “It didn’t heal my mother, but maybe it’ll heal Kamui. I don’t know a lot about dragons,” he shrugs, “but I’m sure she’s scared. I would be scared if I was a dragon and didn’t know what was happening. I like seeing too, and it probably really sucks that she can’t.” 

“Lord Ryoma, why are you helping her so much?” 

His rubs his foot along the stone, glancing down. “When those two men tried to kidnap me, I was super scared. I didn’t know what was happening, but then you saved me. And I learned that if somebody does something nice for you, you should do something nice for them too. But I dunno what nice thing I can do for you, but Kamui is your daughter, and you love her a lot. So… if I do something nice for her, then it’s like I’m doing something nice for you, right?”

Mikoto smiles, almost gives a soft laugh. “Yes, that’s all I want, Lord Ryoma: just somebody to be nice to my girl. She doesn’t have a lot of friends, or even people who like her.” 

“Then I’ll go get Lady Arete, because Kamui is my friend too. And… I don’t want her to be gone like Mother—that’s too much, too soon.” He scurries away from the cell, ignoring the guards who try to stop him from getting outsiders involved. 

Not that anyone would particularly care. Wyverns are common along Nohrian mountains, and a specific type are even bred to be used in the army. Hoshido having a dragon of its own wouldn’t be out of the ordinary. Then again, having a dragon _shifter_ might cause unnecessary intrigue. 

Kamui makes a soft whine, and buries her face in Mikoto’s abdomen. As if she wants to curl up there. She strokes the dragon’s neck absentmindedly. 

_If we can’t change you back, I’ll never forgive myself for being careless. A child shouldn’t be punished for the sins of their parents._

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


In the end, Ryoma isn’t able to get Arete to come and help with the situation. Only when an hour has passed without any indication of the aide, does Mikoto exit the cell. It pains her to leave Kamui, especially when she whines like a sad dog. “I’ll be back,” she assures, before continuing up the stairway to the ground floor. She wanders into the throne room where Sumeragi and Arete are speaking quietly. Other castle staff are moving in and out, presumably to get started on Ikona’s funeral. 

“—and yes, of course I’ll stay for it,” Arete replies, solemnly. “I doubt you want to wait long for Garon to show up.” She spots Mikoto, and nods. “Hello again, Miss Mikoto.” Her hair isn’t long anymore or done in a braid, like in Valla. Now it’s short cropped, reaching the base of the neck. 

“Queen Arete,” she bows politely, “sorry to disturb. But did the little Prince Ryoma happen to stop by?” 

Sumeragi sighs, crossing his arms. “Are you asking about Kamui?” 

“Yes.” She looks to Arete, saying, “My daughter. She’s not well—never has been, you can say. Young Lord Ryoma said that his mother mentioned to him your songs have healing properties?” Or at least just the one Janus wrote down to subdue Anankos. It might work on Kamui, all things considered, but what if it hurts Arete in the process? 

Everything from Valla is cursed. Her headaches are constant reminders of the fact. 

“Well, they don’t physically heal, per se. But they are soothing, in a manner of speaking. And I have been working with adding some magical element to my songs so that one day they will quite literally cure others of their ailments or afflictions.” Arete places a hand on Sumeragi’s arm. “I’ve been suggesting I try out my newest song ever since little Ryoma brought up the concern. But the king here is quite resolute.” 

“You shouldn’t have to concern yourself with this,” he replies. “It’s not a Nohrian matter.” 

“I won’t tell anyone if you’re concerned about it, I swear. But from what your son has said, this child Kamui seems to be suffering. If I can help her revert to her human form, maybe she’ll be better.” 

Sumeragi groans lightly, closing his eyes, thinking. After a pause, he opens them again. “Very well. But please do not let word of this get out. The nobles here are already in a frenzy, and it’s costing a leg to figure out how to swear their silence.” 

“I’m sorry for imposing,” Mikoto apologizes. “I know you must be rather busy with your queenly duties, milady.” 

“It’s not a problem.” Arete smiles knowingly and walks toward her. “Take me to your daughter, and I’ll see what I can do. I wasn’t…,” she frowns, staring at the floor, “…able to help Ikona like I had hoped. So I’ll be damned if I can’t be useful elsewhere.” 

Mikoto wishes so much to hug her sister, but how is she to even begin fabricating the lie that she’s no longer an only child? Sumeragi already believes she has no family aside from Kamui, and who knows what Arete had to make up to adapt. 

Unfortunately, Sumeragi goes with them to the cell. She won’t get a chance to speak with her sister in private like she had hoped. Later then, she’ll figure something out. Too many years have passed since she last saw Arete, and they’re long overdue for a reunion. 

Kamui is laying on the hay pile warmed by the sunbeam when they get there. As the guard unlocks the door, the little dragon raises her head toward the noise. She sniffs the air and her tail swishes along the ground. As Arete approaches, Kamui stops, and slowly backs away to a dark corner. 

“I won’t hurt you,” she says softly. A momentary silence floats in the room as Arete studies Kamui. She doesn’t seem the least bit surprised. The queen strokes her chin, the other arm coming to support her elbow from below. She taps her foot lightly along the stone. “Who is her father?” 

“It’s a long story, but the short version is I don’t know.” 

“Can’t be a wolfskin or kitsune; there’s no reason she’d look like this. Ryoma said she’s a dragon, and she certainly looks it. More deer-like, but a dragon nonetheless.” 

“Her father gave me this when he found out about her.” Mikoto shows her the dragonstone. “And I tried to give it to Kamui, but it’s not working.” 

Arete’s lips thin into a line. “Sumeragi, when did this happen?” 

“The girl transformed last week,” he replies, “so it’s been a good several days she’s been like this. Ryoma has been visiting her for the last few. He thinks I don’t know, but I do. At first I was opposed to it and was going to confront him, but he’s been able to find out more about this new… form. It’s been helpful, but we still can’t place the origins of this. Some of our priests think she’s cursed, and others have likened her to a blessing from the deities, like a demigoddess in disguise. That her being here is good fortune, not bad.” 

Mikoto and Arete give quick knowing glances at each other. “Well,” Arete begins, “I can try to sing that song I created. It was to calm any shifters we may come across. I travel a lot around Nohr, and sometimes magic alone isn’t enough to fend off the wolfskin. Perhaps it’ll work on her?” 

“At this point,” Mikoto sighs, “I’m desperate for any solution.”

Nodding, Arete takes the dragonstone from her hands. “I’ll need this. I don’t know if my song will work by itself.” Slowly she walks toward Kamui, who cowers in a corner. Arete clutches the stone against her heart, and begins to sing:

 

_You are the ocean's gray waves, destined to seek_

_Life beyond the shore just out of reach_

_Yet the waters ever change, flowing like time_

_The path is yours to climb_

Kamui groans, wobbling toward Arete. The little dragon shakes her head yet continues walking.

 

_In the white light, a hand reaches through_

_A double-edged blade cuts your heart in two_

_Waking dreams fade away,_

_Embrace the brand new day_

Another groan—a slight roar, and Kamui slumps to the ground. The dragonstone glows, and all around her beastly form water droplets float about. Arete smiles, and continues.

 

_Sing with me a song of birthrights and love_

_The light scatters to the sky above_

_Dawn breaks through the gloom, white as a bone_

_Lost in thoughts all alone_

 

Blue light encases Kamui’s body, the water droplets still swirling around her. Slowly her form shrinks and the dragonstone glows brightly. When the light clears, Kamui is once again in her human state. Bare and unconscious. 

Mikoto smiles, swallowing a sob. She rushes toward her, covering her child with a shawl. “Oh my sweet Kamui,” she cries, “you’re back…!” 

“I’m glad I was able to help,” Arete says. “I didn’t even have to use all the verses of my song. Good to know. Here, take this.” She sets the dragonstone on the ground beside Mikoto. “Glad I was right: combining my songs with magic makes them more potent. It’s only a theory, but perhaps the stone didn’t work because Kamui didn’t use it soon enough after she had transformed. Now it should be more effective, but I advise she keep it on her.” 

“Yes, yes of course.” Mikoto blinks away her tears, and grins up at her sister. “How can I ever repay you, Queen Arete?” 

“No payment needed. All I ask is that you take care of your daughter so it doesn’t happen again.” 

“Arete, thank you,” Sumeragi smiles, “for doing this. We were at a loss on how to resolve this incident.” 

“You’re welcome. But I strongly suggest telling Kamui about this power of hers to prevent another accidental transformation. I don’t know how to use the stone, but it’s better that she keeps even a fragment of it on her. Like a broach, or even a—” 

Her sister holds back a cry and falls to the floor, gritting her teeth. Shimmering purple blotches climb up her arms and to her neck. Sumeragi rushes to her aid and holds her in his arms, shouting to the guards to get a healer. 

Damn him. _Damn_ that foul beast. The song _is_ cursed, just like anything else relating to Valla. Had Mikoto known for certain, she would’ve never asked Arete for help. Now she’s writhing in pain—but what if she knew? What if Arete knew this entire time that the song would do this? 

“Arete!” Sumeragi places a hand on her cheek. “What’s happening?!” 

“I’m,” she gasps, “fine. I just… _gods._ ” Arete struggles to sit up. “This isn’t new to me.” She takes a breath. “I don’t know what it is about this song. It keeps danger away, but it hurts me in the process. I don’t know where I went wrong.” 

“You need to rest.” 

“No, I’m fine, honest.” 

“You’re clenching your teeth and your brow is pinched—that is not a sign of being alright. And you’re sweating; even worse.” Sumeragi lifts her into his arms. “Katerina was the first to go, then Ikona recently passed, and I’ll be damned if I let another queen suffer the same fate.” 

He doesn’t wait for Mikoto to follow. The guards escort him out while one stays behind with her. Said guard stares at Mikoto with apprehension, and his glance to Kamui contorts his face in disgust. Mikoto holds her daughter close, pressing a kiss to her cheek. She knows how castle gossip evolves, and no doubt Kamui will be seen as a bad omen, hurting the Nohrian queen. Panicked council members will worry about Garon’s reaction should he find out. After all, gossip in royal courts spreads like wind igniting a fire on dry grass. 

“It’s not your fault,” she whispers to Kamui as they quickly exit the dungeon. “It’s not your fault, okay? None of this is. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.” 

“M… Ma… ma…,” comes her soft reply. 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Arete doesn’t die, much to Mikoto and Sumeragi’s relief. Her retainer, a Great Knight named Gunter, still insists she rests until Ikona’s funeral. Mikoto has to keep Kamui locked away in their room so she can’t get into any more trouble. For the time being, Sumeragi doesn’t allow the girl to play with Takumi, or any of his other children. 

“Until more information is collected,” he reasons. Mikoto doesn’t have the energy to protest. 

When she tries to visit Arete the next afternoon, Gunter stops her at the door. “You’ll walk no further,” he says sternly. 

“Please, I just want to apologize.” 

“She doesn’t need an apology. She needs rest. And from what I’ve been told, you’re the reason she fell ill in the first place. I don’t know how or why, but you’re—” 

“Gunter,” Arete calls from inside the room, “it’s alright. Let her in.” 

“Milady, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“It’s not her fault, believe me. Please let her in.” 

He gives a frustrated groan, but complies nonetheless. Mikoto slowly walks into the room where Arete is resting on the hybrid futon. She has a journal in hand, scribbling in it with another. Gunter closes the sliding door, and Mikoto sits down next to her sister. 

“It’s—why didn’t you tell me beforehand?” she says in a hushed voice. 

“You would’ve refused otherwise.” Arete sets the journal and quill down on a side table. “It happened the first time I sung it, and if I wish to teach it to Azura, I must do it in quick lessons.” 

“Azura?” 

“My daughter.” _Your niece_ , the unsaid words hang from the end. Arete stares out the window, watching a small bird hop along the balcony. “She’s good at it so far. Already memorized one-third of the entire thing.” She takes her journal from the table and quickly scribbles something down, showing it to Mikoto:  
  


> _I have to take her to that place through a lake. It’s the only way she can learn without the pain. But I’m never there for long—no more than an hour, in case he finds us. And I’ve also found even writing the name down of that place or other related things will cause pain. I’d be impressed with his complex curse if I didn’t hate him so much._  

  
“I’m sorry,” Mikoto says weakly. “It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t—” 

“Even if you hadn’t with his good side, he still would’ve whether you did or not. At this point, I realize now it was unavoidable, almost planned even.” 

She scribbles something else on the same page:  
 

> _I think he split himself to have some last hope of ending his misery. Your lover giving you that child might’ve unconsciously been a part of it too. She now has potent dragon blood, and blood of a god. Knowing she can transform is very helpful. She can slay him and end all of this when the time is right._  

  
Arete closes the journal, and takes Mikoto’s hand in hers. “We’ve adapted just fine, even though it’s painful in every possible way. But tell me, Miss Mikoto, how are you? Who are you? I’d like to get to know the woman cherished enough to be Ikona’s personal attendant.” 

They spend the greater part of the afternoon catching up. (Her face reddens when Arete chuckles at the fake life she’s crafted for herself, and then laughs when Mikoto defends she just went with whatever was more believable at the time.) They speak low enough that nobody can hear; she’s sure there’s some curious ears outside the door every so often. Gunter leaves in the middle of their chatting, explaining he needs to check up on the children. Arete clarifies he means Azura and her three little retainers-in-training: Flora, Felicia, and Jakob. Mikoto couldn’t be happier for her sister. After losing her home, and forever regretful she couldn’t do more to save her people, she’s a queen again and working twice as hard to restore Nohr. 

“It might not be as lush as Hoshido, but it truly is a lovely place. I’m taking up Katerina’s research to see why the Dragon Veins are acting as they do. They seem to dry up starting at the mountain pass that divides the land.” 

She doesn’t need to ask who might be involved in that. 

Once again Arete scribbles in the journal, and then hands it to Mikoto:  
 

> _Ikona’s death wasn’t an accident. She had all the symptoms of being poisoned by the infamous mushroom mistaken for the edible one. You know which I’m speaking of. It only grows there, and I can only assume those invisible atrocities somehow got it into her tea or another liquid substance. I don’t know what he’s planning, but I don’t like it. Something bad, worse than all these ‘minor’ things, is going to happen; I just don’t know when._  

  
“Does he know where we are?” Mikoto asks softly. 

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t seem to be able to reach very far. Whatever the good man did, it worked. Mostly.”

“We’re really in a pickle, aren’t we?”

“Yes, but I’m confident things will work out. I can think realistically, at least; pessimism won’t help any.” 

Mikoto flops down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “He gave me foresight,” she begins, “and now I can’t stop thinking about what I might see. I can’t choose, much like the fortunes from Orochi’s family. And I don’t want to see the potential calamities that lie ahead.” 

“We’ll get through it somehow,” Arete assures. “We have to. There’s no quitting on this one. But for now,” she takes Mikoto’s hand again, “it’s just nice to see not all has been lost.” 

Sitting up, Mikoto throws her arms around her sister, holding her tight. Arete rubs her hands along her back, humming. “That’s true. Oh,” she smiles, laughing back a sob, “I’m so happy that I at least found you again.” 

“I am too.” Arete holds her closer, voice wavering. “Gods, Mikoto. I just…” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” she laughs through another sob, “because I know. I know.” Arete shudders, and cries softly. Mikoto can’t stop her own tears, but smiles through it. “I didn’t get to say it when we were split apart, but, I love you, sister.” 

“No matter how many times you might frustrate me,” Arete chuckles, and looks at Mikoto. She cups her face and wipes away the tears on her cheeks with her thumbs, “know that I’ll always love you too.” 

“I’ll never forget, I swear.” 

They keep each other company for a while more. Once dinner time rolls around, Mikoto is asked to leave. She picks up some food from the kitchens, one tray for herself, and another for Kamui. Her daughter is drawing pictures with some ink when she gets to their room. One of several illustrations, it seems. The other drawings are scattered along the floor. They range from plants to animals, and even a poorly rendered image of the castle. 

“Clean up, Kamui.” Mikoto places the trays on the table. “No food until you wash your hands.”

“Okay Mama.” She walks up to her mother and presents her hands. Mikoto takes a wet cloth from the washing basin and scrubs her daughter’s hands clean. Or as clean as the ink will let them. Soap isn’t always enough. 

She lets silence fall in the room as they eat at their small round table in a corner. When Kamui is nearly finished stuffing her face with rice, Mikoto starts, “Are you okay, my sweet? You scared Mama when you turned into a dragon.” 

Kamui hangs her head, setting the bowl down. “I’m sorry….” 

“No, it’s not your fault; I’m not mad, I promise. Ryoma says that you can’t see when you’re a dragon?” 

“Yeah, I can’t. But I can see colors and shapes. Just not like I’m supposed to when I’m me.” 

“From what he’s said, I think you can see temperature.” 

“Tem-pur-a-ture?” 

“Like how hot or cold something is. If something is warm, like people, then you see reds and oranges. If something is cool, like water, then you see blues.” 

“Oh, yeah, I think so. I like seeing like a normal person though.” Kamui pokes at a grain of rice on the rim of the bowl with her chopstick. “I can smell and hear things a lot better when I’m a dragon. And I can feel when somebody’s coming closer if I put my hands on the floor. But I like being a person better, ‘cause then people aren’t afraid of me. I heard the guard man when I was down there, and he said I was a monster….” 

“You are _not_ a monster, Kamui.” 

“But that’s what that bully called me. And it’s why I got mad and hurt him. Is he okay?” 

“He’ll have a scar, but he’ll be fine.” 

“I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t want to hurt anybody.” She looks up with large, sad eyes. “But he was being mean to my friends. I like Takumi and Kaze, and I _don’t_ like it when people are mean to them. Do they still like me after they saw I turned into a monster? A demon, like that boy said? Is that why my ears are like triangles, ‘cause I’m evil?” 

“Listen now, Kamui.” Mikoto shuffles over next to her, taking her daughter’s small hands in her own. “Never call yourself a monster. Or evil. You’re a gift—a beautiful little girl who was blessed. That’s all. People who call you ‘monster’ or ‘demon’ or any other bad names are just jealous, and maybe scared. People are scared of what they don’t understand. But I want _you_ to understand that you’re a treasure to me, and to your friends. I love you, my sweet little dragon. Even if other people don’t, always remember you’re Mama’s favorite person in the entire universe.” 

“I-I am? Am I really your favorite person, Mama?”

Mikoto smiles sweetly. “Of course. Always and forever.” 

Kamui throws her arms around her middle, burying her face into her shirt. “You’re my favorite person in the entire universe too, Mama! I’ll love you to infinity!” 

Chuckling, Mikoto replies, “I’ll love you to infinity too, dear,” and kisses the top of her head. 

_Other people may never stop calling you a monster, or ever stop looking at you in disgust. You’ve got a heavy burden to bear, and I’m sorry, my child. But I pray every day you will find people who’ll want to help, and see you for the gem you truly are._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I got sorta teary-eyed writing Arete and Mikoto's reunion. It's so nice that they're finally a family again. As for Anankos' curse, the game doesn't explain it that well either; only that if you speak of Valla outside of Valla, then you die. So I took that a few steps further to kinda set some parameters for what will or won't cause pain, or eventual instant death.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	19. XIX

His father asks him why he never stays for dessert anymore after dinner. But Xander knows better. He hasn’t had a dessert since his half-brother Samuel kept vomiting from eating just one custard puff. Before bedtime, he died. Then Samuel’s mother died two days later. 

“It’s okay; I don’t need them,” he quietly says, quickly walking away from the dining hall and back to his room. 

With his mother gone (new mother, Miss Arete; she’s nice like his real one was), and not having Azura around to play, Xander mainly keeps to himself. A part of him would like to play with his other half-siblings, but he doesn’t know if he can trust them. Last week, he nearly fell down the stairs just like Azura had, but a guard caught him before he hit his head on the cold ground. He was actually pushed down by a brother his age, Bernard. 

“Sorry,” Bernard said later, when Xander’s recovering from his sprained ankle. “My mother told me to, and I really didn’t want—I’m sorry!” 

Xander wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He just mumbled, “It’s okay,” before asking one of the nurses to take him back to his room. Camilla visited him later that day; the only sister he can trust. Two years younger than him, but just as tall. His mother says that’s how girls grow; taller than boys when they’re little. 

“He was trying to kill you,” Camilla had said. “I heard his mom scolding him because he failed.” 

“I know he was.” Xander took out a sheathed dagger from the night table next to his bed. “I forgot to take this with me. Father says I have to keep it on me all the time.” 

“You should. I have one too, ‘cause I don’t trust anybody.” She hopped up onto his bed. Her short wavy lavender locks bounced as she did so. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you this time. But I fixed it; my mother made me.” 

She doesn’t have a choice, he knows that. Last time Camilla said ‘no’ to her mother, she got slapped in the face in front of everyone. Hard. Xander had never seen her cry so much since that time. 

“I’m tired,” he confessed, not bringing up the fact that she avenged him. “I don’t like it here, Camilla. Why do our siblings have to die?” 

“Because they’re being punished,” she replied quietly. “That’s what my mother said. But now she’s not yelling at me so much ‘cause there’s only three left.” Camilla took out her dagger from a pocket in her purple dress. She held it in her hands, staring at the sheath. It had golden roses carved into it. “She wants me to kill Leonardo next. But I don’t want to,” she shook her head, “because he’s so little, Xander. He’s only 5.” 

“Then don’t.” 

She looked up at him with sad eyes, a deep frown on her lips. “I’ll get punished if…” 

“No, because I’ll protect you, like that last time. Remember?” 

Camilla had tried to kill him before. But Xander fought back; he still had his training sword on him. She cried and threw her weapon down, saying she was sorry before fleeing to her mother. He never told his father because he didn’t want to bother him. His father doesn’t smile anymore, doesn’t spend time with him anymore. Only his mother does. But she’s gone a lot and takes Azura with her. Xander’s glad for that; Azura is shy, and when she’s here, she always gets picked on. Last time he saw her, she had a lot of bruises. 

He’s not close to any of his siblings, except Camilla. She didn’t try to kill him again after that first time. But when he saw her the next day, she had a big bruise on her cheek. He knows her mother hurts her if she fails. Camilla always looks sad now, and she doesn’t smile anymore, just like Father. 

Xander caught her mother hitting her one time. Back then they weren’t close, so he doesn’t know why he got really angry. He ran to her and jumped in front of Camilla, pulling her away from Miss Isabella. 

“You can’t do that!” he yelled, standing in front of his younger sister. “She’s crying because you’re hurting her! You need to stop! Or I’m gonna tell Father!” 

Miss Isabella had stared at him, looking like she wanted to hit him too. Then she said, “I apologize, young Prince Alexander. I’ll be more aware next time.” She can’t get mad at him or hurt him because he’s the crown prince, a title his father said is very important and should be respected. Father will know if one of his lady ‘friends’ hurts him. 

Since that day, Camilla hasn’t tried to kill him again. If her mother asks, Camilla just kills some other siblings if she can. Instead, she defends Xander when he’s being threatened. He’s sad Bernard is gone, because he was the best at hide-and-seek, but he likes living too. Xander can’t help Nohr like how his real mother tried, and like how Miss Arete keeps trying, even if not everyone likes her. He can’t do any of that if he’s dead.

“Will you really protect me?” Camilla had asked, looking hopefully at him. “Mother knows everything….” 

“I will, and I’ll protect Leo too.” 

“And Elise?”

He nodded. “And Elise too.” 

There are only four of his siblings left: Camilla, Leo, Elise, and a second brother named Vincent. He doesn’t like Vincent; he’s older than Xander by a few months, and he’s not nice. He stays away from everybody. But he likes picking on Azura when she’s here, and only stops if Xander pushes him away. 

Since the beginning of this year, they all started to die slowly. Both them and their mothers. It’s quieter now that there aren’t as many siblings. Camilla only survived so long because she got good at killing. That’s why she doesn’t smile anymore, he thinks. Leo is too little to do anything drastic. He stays in his room reading books with Miss Eleanora most days. He’s really smart for his age, she said one time. “A genius.” 

Elise is their youngest sibling, just a baby. Xander and Camilla visit her often because her mother is sick and dying. That’s what the doctors say. Elise has to be fed by a ‘wet nurse’. He still doesn’t know what that is, but he knows it’s how babies eat when their mothers can’t give them any food. 

“But I have to do something,” Camilla continued. “Mother says if I don’t then…” 

“I _will_ protect you,” Xander repeated. He took Camilla’s hands in his, squeezing them. “She can’t hurt you if I’m here, okay? I promise, from today and forever, I’ll be a good big brother.” 

Camilla nodded. She didn’t smile, but she didn’t look sad either. 

He tries to remember that talk every day, so when he’s a grownup, he can take care of Camilla and little Leo and even baby Elise because he’s tired. He wants to have siblings, and he doesn’t like that the castle is so quiet nowadays. 

As he’s going to his room after dinner, Camilla meets him in the hallway. “You didn’t eat the custard puff,” she says, walking next to him. “I didn’t either.” 

“Was it poisoned?” 

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Mother just doesn’t let me have dessert anymore.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t wanna be poisoned.” 

They walk through the west wing of the castle on the way to Xander’s room, the royal chambers being on the east wing. The west wing is where all of Father’s lady friends live. Servants are running in and out of Vincent’s room when the two of them pass by. Some guards are standing near the door, and next to them is little Leo. He has tear stains on his cheeks, and some of his clothes are bloody. There’s a red stain on his short blond bangs. 

“What happened?!” Camilla runs to him, touching his face. “Leo, are you okay?!” 

“He said he had a book I would like,” he mumbles. “But then he locked the door, and had a dagger. And I know what that means. He lied to me—and Mother said that if anybody ever did that, to hit them with something heavy. So I got a big book, and I threw it at him. It hit him in the legs. He fell down and I got the dagger and he tried to push me so I hit him with the dagger over and over again and then he stopped moving and…” 

Sobbing, Leo covers his face with his dirty hands. He shakes his head, sniffing. “I’m sorry, big brother. I didn’t mean to—I was scared and I didn’t want to die like Mother said I would if…!” 

“It’s not your fault, Leo,” is all Xander can say. 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


He’s not all that different from his siblings. The older ones anyway. Xander hates it as much as Camilla does. But it was the only way to save Azura that time last year. 

It was spring, and a lot of nice flowers were blooming. She was in the garden, smelling the purple roses near a tiny pond. Xander was coming back from his sword lessons, walking along the passage that overlooks the garden. Azura was sitting, trying to carefully pluck a rose from the bush without poking herself on the thorns. 

Coming toward her was Seanna, one of his half-sisters as old as him. She was walking with her hands behind her back, a dagger in her fist. Xander ran down to the garden, his legs burning when he reached the grass. Azura screamed, and he ran faster. 

When he got to the corner where they were, Azura had a cut on her arm that was bleeding. Seanna yelled, “Hold still!” and Azura walked backward, hurting herself against the thorns of the rose bush. 

“Stop!” Xander shouted as he ran to them. “Please stop!” 

But he got cut with the dagger as Seanna tried to stab Azura again. Xander screamed and wanted to cry, but then he remembered what his instructor had said: to not give anyone time for an opening if they’re trying to hurt you. 

“I’m sorry!” she said. “But I have to otherwise Mother will be really mad! A-And she’s not even Father’s actual child! That’s what Mother said, so it’s okay!” 

Azura sobbed against the corner of the rose bush, more thorns poking at her exposed skin. Xander dove in front of her as Seanna tried to stab her again with the dagger. Today, he had just upgraded from a wooden sword to a bronze one. He was still trying to get used to the weight. And he didn’t think—only heard Azura crying, and his cut really burned. 

Xander yelled again for Seanna to stop, and parried with his bronze sword. Except his weapon was longer than hers, and so the sword pierced right through her stomach. Seanna dropped the dagger, and Xander quickly let go of the sword, tripping backward onto his rear. His sister whispered, “I’m sorry,” and a little bit of blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. 

She fell onto the ground, and didn’t move anymore.

“You saved me again,” Azura sobbed. “Th-Thank you.” 

But he couldn’t find the words to reply. He ended up crying himself, trying to find the nearest guard and tell him what happened. Later that evening, his father didn’t punish him, but instead reasoned, “You acted in self-defense. You killed one sister, but saved another. One who couldn’t fight back. That’s what you take away from this, my son.” 

“Seanna is dead and I didn’t….” 

“Azura is alive because of it too. That’s what a king does: defends his people. A king has tough decisions to make. There’s always a price for anything too good to be true. Being royalty—this is it. Making hard decisions that have great consequences. This is your future.”

Garon placed his hand on Xander’s head, stroking his curls. “It’s not ideal. But for every positive there’s also a negative. Living a life of luxury as a prince, wanting for nothing? Well, having to make those tough decisions is the negative of that.” 

“But—” 

“Please, Xander,” his father sighed, “not now. I… must resolve this with her mother. We’ll speak later, son.” 

The next day Seanna’s mother had died because his father was angry she sent her after Azura, the child of his wife. That’s what a maid told Xander anyway. 

He doesn’t like to talk about it, or remember. Because Seanna died with her eyes open, and he doesn’t like dolls now with glass eyes. Azura doesn’t make him talk about it either. She brought him cookies later the week of that incident, but otherwise never spoke of it again. 

It’s true that he’s the crown prince living in luxury, but he’s not safe. From the mothers, yes. From his half-siblings? No. When everyone found out what he did that day, he was told by his father to be careful. So if he doesn’t have his sword, he has his dagger. And since Seanna, he killed four more of his siblings who were trying to hurt him. 

“When will it stop?” he had asked Miss Arete one night, as she was tucking him into bed. 

“I don’t know.” She stroked his hair, looking sad. “But one day it will.” 

“Please don’t die, Miss Arete. I like having you as my new mother.”

She smiled, and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll be strong so I can watch you grow up into a fine young man. Okay?” 

“Okay.” He wiggled under his covers, and Miss Arete tucked him in, fluffing up his pillows. “Mother?” 

“Yes, Xander?” 

“I love you.” 

She smiled again, but bigger this time. “And I love you too, dear. You’re my son just as much as Azura is my daughter. Never forget, promise?” 

“Promise.” 

He’s always safer when Miss Arete is home. But since that Seanna event, she takes Azura with her on the trips. Xander can’t go with them because he has lessons and sword training. Camilla watches out for him when his mother is gone. She’s the only lady Camilla actually likes. 

“I wish she was my mother,” she had said once. 

“If you ask her nicely, I think she will be,” he offered, not knowing what else to say. He wouldn’t want a mother like Miss Isabella, either. 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


After Leo killed Vincent in self-defense, the castle is even quieter than Xander is used to. Camilla says she has a weird feeling in her stomach, “like something is rolling around in there but I’m not hungry; like I’m not ill, just that I feel bad,” and so she stays in Elise’s room more often. Miss Arete is in Hoshido right now because Queen Ikona is really sick, so Xander doesn’t know when she’ll be back. 

His father would scold him if he knew, but Xander doesn’t keep his guard up as much anymore. All his siblings are dead, except for the last three and Azura. She’s shy but nice, and is away in Hoshido, so she should be safe. Camilla doesn’t want to try and kill him ever again, and Leo is too little to really understand what he did. He knows what he did was bad, but just not _how_ bad. Elise is only a baby, so she doesn’t know or understand anything. 

That afternoon, he’s kept locked inside his etiquette lessons after a guard comes in and whispers to his tutor. When he asks her why after the guard leaves, she just tells him to stay put. “You’re safer here,” she says, looking out the window. Then she gasps, “It’s not safe to go out,” before closing the curtains. 

“But it’s lunchtime and I’m hungry.” 

“You’ll eat later.” 

He stays in that room for what seems like forever. When the same guard comes in, he brings Camilla and Leo with him. Elise is in her big sister’s arms, crying. The instructor talks with him in hushed voices again. 

“What’s going on?” Xander asks. 

“I don’t know.” Camilla bounces Elise in her arms. “I was in her room with Leo, and then we’re told to get out. I heard Miss Violetta yelling outside.” 

The guard and the instructor finish speaking. He leaves, and the door locks from the outside. “Children,” she says, “please follow me. And quiet that baby!” 

“B-But I don’t know how,” Camilla says, bouncing Elise more. “Please, ssh, it’s okay.” Leo says nothing, only grips onto Camilla’s long dress. He stares at his shoes. 

Xander takes his little brother’s hand, and leads them away with the instructor. 

They pass through some secret hallways he’s never seen before. The instructor carries a torch with her as they walk through the dark, cold paths. They descend several stairs until they reach a door. The hinges are shiny, and the bottom edge is painted green. 

“You’re going to stay in here until somebody comes for you, okay?” His tutor opens the door and reveals a small room, almost like a pantry. There’s another door on the floor, but it has a big lock on it. It’s hidden by a table above it with a long cloth, but Xander can still see it from the corner where it’s unevenly draped. There is a small couch in a corner with some blankets. Shelves with bread and other dry foods make the room smell like a kitchen. 

“Where are we?” Xander asks. 

“That’s not important, milord.” She lights the wall torches with her own. “Just stay here until a guard or some other person comes to get you, okay? The food is good to eat if you’re hungry. And do _not_ open this door for anybody. Only people with a key can get in.” He doesn’t get to ask any more questions. His tutor leaves the room and locks the door from the outside. 

“It’s a secret room,” Leo mumbles. “I read about them in a book before.” 

“Something bad is happening,” Camilla points out, “but no adult tells me anything. And my stomach still feels weird.” 

Elise keeps crying. Xander takes her from Camilla’s arms, and holds her gently. “Big brother is here,” he whispers, shushing her. “It’s okay.” He bounces her in his arms like Camilla was doing earlier. “You’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

She stops crying, but now whines instead. Babies can’t eat anything but milk, and there’s none in here. He prays she’ll get sleepy and quiet down. Xander walks to the couch and sits, keeping Elise tucked in his arms. “It’s okay, baby sister. I won’t let anybody hurt you. I promise.” 

Rocking her helps Elise fall asleep, much to his relief. Camilla meanwhile makes Leo a snack of tomato paste on a bread roll. She leaves one for Xander on the table when he’s ready. The four of them are quiet the whole time. If he tries really hard, he thinks he can hear voices from above. Some crashing, but it’s faint. 

Leo walks up to him after a while to tug at his puffy sleeve. “Big brother,” he starts, “I have to go….” 

“There’s no latrine here, Leo.” 

“But I can’t hold it.” 

Xander glances around the room. A rusted bucket sits on a stack of wood. Camilla eyes it too and runs up to it, stacking the wood and flour sacks into a little hidden corner. She throws dirty rags over the wood and flour. “You go in that,” she says, putting the bucket in the middle. “We won’t look, okay?” 

Leo nods, running to the makeshift latrine. As promised, his siblings don’t pay him much mind as he relieves himself. Camilla searches around the shelves until she comes to a barrel of water. Grabbing a ladle, she scoops it into a wooden bowl thrown off to the side. 

“Do you think people use this room a lot?” she asks. “The food here doesn’t look nasty, so somebody must’ve been eating it, right?” 

“This might be an emergency room or something.” Xander nods to the legs of the table. “There’s a trap door right there, but it has a lock. This castle is old, so maybe whoever built it made this room and others like it if people needed to escape.” 

“But if we’re here,” Camilla hops off the stool she was on to reach a bar of soap, “then that means something really bad is happening right now.” 

“I think so too.” 

When Leo is done, Camilla helps him wash up. He then sits next to Xander, staring at Elise. “She got saved,” he says. “I’m glad nobody tried to hurt her; she’s tiny. I read in a book tiny things usually die by bigger things. Like a rabbit to a wolf. So I’m glad Elise doesn’t have to worry about it.” 

Xander smiles. “I’m glad too.” 

Leo is quiet for a few moments, gently touching the soft fuzz on her head. “Do you think she’ll like me when we’re older? Do you think I’ll be a good big brother?” 

“You will; I know it.” 

“How?” 

“Because I just do. It’s a stomach feeling, like Camilla’s.”

“Stomachs don’t have feelings. But I really want to be a great big brother, so I’ll try hard.” 

Eventually his siblings curl up around him and nap. He pulls some blankets over the four of them, and drifts off to sleep himself. He dreams of black rooms with torches. Roses are growing in between the stones, for some reason. There are a lot of thorns. He hears his siblings crying, the ones who have died, and he says, “I’m sorry,” over and over again. 

It’s the loud creak of the door that wakes him up. 

“Oh thank goodness!” A guard comes in. The throwing axe strapped on her back looks a little dirty with some sort of black stuff. “We couldn’t find you all and assumed the worst.” 

“What happened?” Xander rubs at his eyes. “Why were we in here for so long?” 

The guard bites her lip. “Um, that is something your father should talk to you about, little lord. Come now. Wake up your siblings. There’s no more need to worry.” 

“About what?” 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


It’s been a week since ‘The Mistress Massacre’, or that’s what the servants and guards call it. Xander didn’t really understand a lot when his father tried to explain what happened. All he knows is that his father had more lady ‘friends’ that Xander never knew about. Maids, infantry, nurses, even some of the cooks. It was Vincent’s mother, Miss Violetta, who found out, and she couldn’t take it after her son died. Because Garon told her to leave since the boy died. She got angry about something else, but he wasn’t really paying attention. 

The only thing he knows for sure is that Father’s lady friends—‘mistresses’—were killed. All of them. Something about Miss Violetta was really angry, and she used ‘dark magic’ to control Faceless, whatever those are. Camilla’s mother, and Leo’s mother, died fighting her. And Elise’s mother was the first to die, along with the maids around her. 

Now the castle is really quiet. Father is looking into hiring more staff to replace the ones he lost. Xander hasn’t seen him since that night. All the guards tell him that he doesn’t want to be disturbed right now. 

He eats breakfast alone with Camilla and Leo the next morning. Elise is being fed by a wet nurse in her room. The dining table seems a lot longer with only them three sitting in it. All the other seats are empty, like if ghosts are there with them. 

Camilla hasn’t mentioned if she’s sad her mother is dead. But yesterday when she got a chocolate éclair after dinner—because nobody was there to hit her or yell, she smiled wide. Wider than Xander has ever seen before. Leo talks to him more, and shares some books with him. Yesterday he sat outside when Xander was training and said one day he’ll be strong too.

It’s only when his mother comes back from Hoshido that Xander get to see his father again. 

They’re eating dinner together the night she and Azura come back. All seven of them, even Elise who is being held by a nurse nearby. It’s a big dinner, with a large hog and buttered bread rolls, potatoes and eggs and all the vegetables they have in the kitchen. And for dessert there’s a large cake made out of peaches, a delicious fruit that Miss Arete brought back from Hoshido because they don’t grow in Nohr. 

Xander doesn’t bring up what happened. He’s too mesmerized by his siblings smiling, and Azura smiling with some vanilla cream on her cheek from eating the cake. Miss Arete wipes her daughter’s mouth, chuckling. His father doesn’t say a lot, but he doesn’t look mad. Or sad. He just hums and takes a drink of wine. 

“She’s my mom now too, right?” Camilla whispers beside him. 

“Yeah,” he replies, “she is.” 

“Does this mean it’s over? Forever? We’re safe now?” 

Xander nods, “Yeah, I think so,” and bites into a fresh peach, smiling until his cheeks hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I get sad when I remember the Nohrian siblings spent their childhood like... that. Trying not to die by their other step-siblings. Kill or be killed. Mothers who never actually loved them; only used them as insurance to the throne. Elise was the only one spared from the trauma, so I guess that's why she's a ray of sunshine when she's older. But even then, her own mother didn't love her. I just wanna hug all of them, at this point.
> 
> Though I love both the Hoshidan siblings, and the Nohrian ones, I do prefer the latter group if I was forced to pick, ha ha. And hooray for Xander's first POV!
> 
> The areas where I switched to past tense were meant to be read as memories, so I hope that's clear! Kinda worried it might've been confusing, so let me know if it was.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	20. XX

The funeral for Ikona is held two days after her passing. Arete is an honored guest, though she can already suspect a few wary glances her way. The Nohrian queen comes to visit, and the next day the Hoshidan queen dies? Suspicious. Of course, everyone in the kingdom already knew Ikona was sick for a while. But they need something or someone to blame their grief on. Arete supposes it’s going to be her. 

All guests, from nobles to farmers, wear black ensembles to the wake. Ikona looks peaceful, dressed in elegant robes with vibrant patterns in silk. Her face is even painted like how it was when she still lived. The royal family leaves flowers in her casket first. Sumeragi has to pull Hinoka away because she won’t stop crying, reaching out for her mother. Ryoma holds his head up high, but tears still drip down his cheeks continuously. Takumi is still too little to understand, Arete thinks, but he keeps asking when his mother is going to wake up. 

Mikoto stands off to the side, holding Sakura in her arms. Kamui isn’t present; she’s kept in her room, as Sumeragi doesn’t need the nobles making comments about what transpired a few days ago. 

Ikona’s mother is also there, along with her younger brother. They lay their flowers next, and then Sumeragi asks for Arete to do the same. 

Gently she places her flower near Ikona’s shoulder. She almost looks like a painting laying there. The only upside to this situation is that Ikona will be spared from Anankos’ wrath, should Arete and Mikoto fail to kill him in time. 

_Even so, I wish she was still here to help._  

Noon is when the wake is finished, and Ikona’s casket is nailed shut. She’s to be cremated tomorrow and her ashes placed in the royal tomb near Shirasagi Castle. 

“You don’t need to stay for that,” Sumeragi tells her at dinner. “I won’t make you do it if you don’t want to.” 

“I’d rather stay. She was my friend, and I want to be here to support her.” Arete places a gentle hand on his arm. “And stay for your consideration, too. My condolences, Sumeragi. Hoshido lost a great treasure, to be sure.” 

He places a hand over hers, squeezing lightly. “Thank you, Arete.” 

There is minor opposition to Arete accompanying them to the royal tomb. Sumeragi immediately shuts down any protests, reminding people that it was Ikona who personally requested Arete be there with her during her final hours. “My wife considers the queen like family. Or do you think it proper to anger the dead so shortly after their passing?” 

Nobody wants to disturb the dead, lest they be haunted. This only grants Arete more wary looks, but she ignores them. Hoshido is on good terms with Nohr, but there have always been some who never liked Nohrians to begin with. They’re seen as barbaric and uncivilized by a handful of bigoted Hoshidans. That, unfortunately, will never change, no matter how much time passes. 

Ikona’s urn is elaborately decorated in earthen tones with gold accents. Her ashes and remaining bones are tucked inside. Sumeragi carries it into the tomb, and Arete stays behind, not wanting to overstep her welcome. The structure is smooth on all sides and made out of a dark stone. The royal family’s crest is carved in the center of a vertical slab at the top. Moss and flowers grow around it, making the whole thing look eerily enchanting. 

When Sumeragi is done, the tomb is sealed shut with an incantation. Hoshidan symbols are painted on the entrance slab with a large brush. “To prevent grave robbing,” Sumeragi says. “You won’t believe how many people have no respect for the dead.” Monks and priestesses chant the incantation, the words glowing blue as they do so. Then the ink disappears, seemingly having seeped into the rock. 

“Oh, I can believe it.” 

The entire city is in mourning. There’s still a bustle around, but shopkeepers and stall vendors don’t shout as loudly as normal for people to browse their wares. Less citizens smile as they traverse the stone streets. Hinoka’s 9th birthday celebration is unfortunately canceled too. Arete can’t even imagine how awful it is that her mother died just before her birthday. A scar she’ll carry with her forever. 

However, they do have a big dinner on Hinoka’s special day. No gifts for now, but Sumeragi promises she’ll receive some later. The table is instead lathered with all of the girl’s favorite dishes and desserts. 

“I want Mother back,” is all she says, poking at her grilled fish. 

“Princess Hinoka,” Mikoto tries, smiling sweetly, “your mother will always be watching you from above. No matter how many birthdays pass, she’ll always be right next to you.” 

“But I want her _here_ so I can hug her and tell her how much I love her.” 

“She’s gone, Hinoka.” Ryoma looks at her from across the table. “And now we need to be strong for her so we can make her proud,” he adds, before serving himself more fried vegetables. 

“Just ‘cause you were Mother’s favorite, you can say things like that.” 

“Your mother loved all of you equally,” Sumeragi cuts in. “Nobody was a favorite. Don’t fight over this, please.” 

The girl hangs her head, frowning at her lap. “I’m sorry, Father.” She sniffs, and sobs out, “I just miss her….” 

“I know, Hinoka. I do too.” 

For whatever reason, she glances at Mikoto, who smiles back at her. Hinoka doesn’t return the gesture, and looks at her half-full bowl instead. 

Arete has no comforting words to give to the girl. She can’t exactly tell her that her mother was murdered by a god. And she doesn’t know the child well enough to know what will placate her sadness for the moment. But, she can sort of understand. Latham didn’t even get a funeral. The last thing Arete would’ve wanted to hear is sympathy, especially on a day that started the apocalyptic future. A future looking more and more assured considering all the misfortune that’s happened so far. 

She informs Sumeragi after dinner she’s to return home tomorrow, and tells Mikoto the same in her guest room before bed. 

“I’ll miss you, sister,” Mikoto says. “But if you can, write to me? I’d like to hear how you’re doing every now and again.” 

“Wouldn’t it be strange for me to write to you?” 

“Oh, that’s true. I guess people would want to know why we’re keeping in touch, wouldn’t they?” 

Arete nods. “But, I do have a solution.” From one of her luggage bags, she takes out a leather pouch. Inside it is an opal that glistens like a rainbow amongst a cloud. “An invention of mine,” she clarifies. “I have another for Sumeragi, though I’ll give it to him tomorrow morning.” 

Mikoto turns it around in her hands, running her fingers along the smooth surface. “A… gem?” 

“You know that opals are the most efficient when it comes to using gems with magic, correct? Well, I’ve devised a communication spell using opals. I tried sapphires, rubies, and emeralds, among others. But all of them only lasted about a few minutes every time before the spell wore off. Opals suck up magic like a sponge, and so these last much longer.” 

“It certainly beats staining my fingers with ink when trying to write,” Mikoto jokes. 

“Can’t say I disagree.” 

“And how will I know when is a good time to call you?” 

“That’s the thing: you won’t.” Arete takes out her own opal. It’s mainly turquoise with shimmers of other colors. “But I’ve crafted my spell so it works to hold a message for about a day. After that it dissipates into the void. You see these veins here?” She traces her finger along the stone in Mikoto’s hand. “This black one—it’ll gleam white when a message is being stored.” 

“You really are incredible,” Mikoto says, inspecting the facets up close. “Developing a communication device without paper! This could be revolutionary.” 

“Don’t get too excited now,” Arete chuckles. “My spell isn’t complex enough to hold more than five other stones in a ‘circle’, you can say. With you having one and Sumeragi, that leaves me one to give to Garon, another to Azura, and the last I haven’t decided. Yukiko perhaps. Or Xander.” 

Mikoto pockets the stone, patting it. “Well I’ll make sure to keep it on me always. How is Xander by the way?” 

Arete sits back against her pillow, and sighs. “He’s alive last I saw him, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“Oh….” 

She rubs her fingers along her temple. “I try so hard to protect him, Mikoto. I feel like I _must_ , for Katerina’s sake, bless her soul. But those accursed concubines keep tactfully sending their children after his life. From what I know, he’s had to kill four of his siblings already—one he killed to save Azura’s life, even.” 

“I’m so sorry.”

With a heavy sigh, Arete adds, “I’ve been trying to keep him safe since her passing. He’s like a real son to me, as if I had birthed him myself. Xander is going to be strong, I know it. But right now, he lacks that vitality of his mother. I worry for him. And Garon is so hard on him too. The boy isn’t even 11 yet! I understand he’s the crown prince, but he should be allowed to live like a child too. Without worry of drowning in his father’s shadow or being killed when he turns the corner.” 

“He’ll get there,” Mikoto says reassuringly. “I’m sure of it.” 

“We can only pray.” 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Before she leaves in the morning, Arete hands Sumeragi one of the stones (a red opal) and explains to him what it does. She also gives him a box of chocolate confectionaries for Hinoka. “A birthday gift, since I was mindless enough to not remember before coming here. They’re the best in the entirety of Nohr. Filled with different flavors of fruits and custards, aside from some pure chocolate ones.” 

“That’s quite alright; I’m sure she’ll love these.” He smiles, handing the box to Saizo Sr. and telling him to take it in the castle. Sumeragi helps Arete up into her carriage as guards standby. From the top of the staircase, Mikoto waves at her. Sakura is in her arms, clutching onto her shawl. Kamui, once again, isn’t there. 

“Sumeragi,” she begins, nodding to her sister, “what of her child?” 

He looks up to Mikoto, “I suppose you’re speaking of Kamui,” and then glances back to Arete. “We haven’t decided yet how to… raise her within the castle. So far, the nobles are quiet about what transpired.” 

“I know it’s not my place to give suggestions.” 

“No, go ahead. We’re at a loss anyway.” 

Arete taps her finger on the frame of her hand fan. “She’s only a little girl. Whatever you decide, please consider how she’ll see herself when she grows. It’s no secret the adolescent years can be the worst for people, both externally and internally.” 

“Yes, of course.” He nods, and closes the carriage door for her. “Have a safe trip back home, Arete. And you too,” he leans his head in, grinning, “little Azura.” 

“Thank you,” she says, smiling back at him. “A-And thank you for the peaches. I really like them.” 

“Well I’m glad! They’re quite delicious.” 

“I’m just a call away if you need anything,” Arete reminds. 

“I’ll keep the stone on me at all times.” 

Gunter walks up to the window, and bows. “Milady, we’re ready to depart.” 

“Very good. Let’s not waste any more time then, yes? I want to be at Izumo before sundown so we have someplace to rest.” 

She doesn’t stop watching the castle until they pass the gates of Shirasagi. Arete sighs, resting her head back against the cushioned seat. It’s unfortunate that Janus isn’t here to teach Kamui about her powers. And she has a feeling Kamui will have to leap over mountains to get any of the same treatment and respect a normal human would. But there isn’t anything else she can do to help her niece. There’s the song, but she still doesn’t know if singing it too much will have an additional side effect. Like signaling Anankos to their whereabouts. 

“Mother,” Azura begins meekly, “are you okay? You look mad.”

“I’m not mad, dear. Just… tired.” 

“Oh.” Her daughter takes another peach from the basket beside them, and hands one to her. “You should eat one. They’re really good, and maybe eating it might make you feel better.” 

Arete smiles, taking the peach. “You’re right; it might alleviate some fatigue.” She bites into it, the juice dripping onto her chin. She takes a handkerchief and wipes her mouth. “Mm, these really are good, aren’t they?” 

“Yes!” 

By sunset they reach Izumo, and Yukiko makes arrangements for them to stay at her mansion. In private, Arete gives her an opal (a green one), explaining the magic within. “For emergencies,” she says, “because you never know.” 

“Why didn’t I think of this?” The archduchess runs her fingers over the smooth cool stone. “It’s ingenious!” 

“I’m still working on the spell. Right now I can only communicate with five others. But one day I hope I can go beyond that, tenfold.” 

“It’d definitely save on paper!” Yukiko laughs. “If you ever need any help, just let me know. For now,” she spreads her arms wide, “enjoy your stay at my humble abode! Ikona’s passing will forever leave a blemish, but we mustn’t forget to cherish life while we still have it either.”

Easier said than done; Arete can’t exactly be as laid back as the archduchess. Not that it’s a bad thing; it’s great to not have to worry about preventing the apocalypse. But she does have a point. There’s no use in doing any sort of work if one can’t even appreciate the little things. 

“Suppose you’re right about that. Guess I’ll treat myself to a hot spring visit.” 

“Nice! I’ll go with you!” 

Yukiko convinces them to stay the following day. Out of all people, Arete would think Gunter would be the first to protest. But instead, he politely agrees. She has a feeling the hot springs soothes his old, tired bones in the best way possible. “Enjoy yourself, my dutiful knight,” she teases. 

“Milady, I can assure you that I will still be ever vigilant and—” 

“Yes, yes.” She shoos her hand at him. “But you deserve a hard-earned break too.” 

“Thank you, my liege.” He gives a polite bow before walking away toward the direction of the hot spring like she knew he would. 

In the afternoon, Arete sits on the terrace of her room, watching Azura have her fortune told by little Izana. He’s 12 now (will be 13 this December), and just as charismatic as his mother. 

“Okay, I’m gonna read these cards, alright?” He hums, fanning out the cards in his hand. His eyes scan them, and he grins. “This is interesting! It says when you get home, you’re going to be at peace more often.” 

“What does that mean?” Azura tilts her head, blinking at him. 

“It can mean a lot of things! But okay: when you’re home back in Castle Krakenburg, are you calm? Or happy?” 

Azura fiddles with the sleeves of her kimono. Yukiko always has guest kimonos available for whoever visits, in all shapes and sizes. “Um,” she gives a quick glance to Arete, and then looks away. 

“You can tell him, my little song bird. It’s alright.” 

Izana looks at the both of them with his lips pursed, an eyebrow cocked. “Everything okay back in Nohr, Lady Arete?” 

“Not always. Azura gets picked on a lot when we’re there. Xander usually has to be close by so she doesn’t get hurt by other children. Or sometimes adults.” 

“But that’s horrible!” His cards fall out of his hands, and he slams his palms on the wooden floorboards. His snowy bobbed hair swishes alongside the gesture. It’s just as straight and silky as his mother’s longer locks. “Nobody should be bullied!” 

“Unfortunately, that’s how it is in the castle. It’s not all bad, but for Azura…” 

“I like being with my mother on trips,” she mumbles quickly. “I get to travel, a-and play with Flora, Felicia, and Jakob. They’re nice to me. I like Xander too, but sometimes he gets hurt trying to protect me and I feel bad.” 

“You should learn magic,” Izana suggests. “Then you can play tricks on people who’re mean to you! That’s what I do!” 

Arete hums, patting the boy on the head. “It’s not that simple, but I suppose she should start to learn how to use a weapon. Thank you for the suggestion, Izana.” 

He grins wide, and nods. “Of course! She’s my friend, and I wanna help however!” 

The problem is, Azura doesn’t have an ounce of violence in her. Despite being bullied by the concubines’ children, she never fought back. She’s gained skills in hiding and making her presence nearly invisible, almost like a phantom. Aside from that, no noteworthy combat techniques. 

_But I should still teach her something. The song alone won’t help if she can’t defend herself._  

When dawn breaks along the horizon the following day, Arete and her convoy continue their trek back home. Getting to the Hoshidan border, passing through Notre Sagesse via ship, and then winding their way through the safe routes into Nohr, their return time takes approximately two weeks. The skies are perpetually overcast, as usual. But the castle is quieter, strangely enough. 

“It’s a blessing from the gods you were gone, milady,” one guard says as he’s escorting them to the throne room. The sun is setting, leaving the sky a muddy pink and orange. “You avoided an ill fate. Both you and your daughter.” 

“An ill fate? What happened?” 

“Um, I think it’s best if the king tells you himself.” 

She finds Garon talking with Iago and some other staff on the lowest tier of the throne room. The men and women there are strangers. New recruits to the place, perhaps. When he sees Arete, his shoulders relax. “Welcome home.” Garon walks up to her and takes her hand, kissing it. “Your timing couldn’t have been more appropriate.” 

“The guard said it was a good thing I was gone. What happened?”

“A lot.” 

Only after Azura is taken back to her room does Arete find out what transpired while she was away. Apparently, all of Garon’s concubines and their remaining children were killed. It’s been dubbed ‘The Mistress Massacre’ because of how bloody it got. Not just his mistresses of aristocratic standing, but also mistress that were maids, or cooks, nurses or soldiers. Arete knows he sleeps around, but she never thought the web would extend so far. 

His mistress Violetta, the mother of Vincent, apparently was the criminal behind it all. Exceptionally proficient in magic— _dark_ magic, that she had been employed by Iago. She was in charge of a project called Faceless, which puts corpses ‘to good use’ and meshes a certain number of them into one mindless undead creature. 

She knows of this project, as Garon tells her everything. Arete strongly opposed it then, and still does now. But all Iago offers in defense is that it’s for, “a soldier reserve, you could say. Saves on land expansion for cemeteries, as well as burning them in one lump in a ditch.” He slithered away back to his chambers on a lower floor before she could force more out of him that time. 

Apparently, Violetta’s manic massacre happened because Eleanora’s son, little Leonardo, accidentally killed Vincent when the latter was trying to murder _him._ Garon later said Violetta needed to leave, as “the queen is right; this project will bring ill fortune in return sometime down the line.” As the woman no longer had an anchor to the royal family, or even a job within the castle, her grief and frustration manifested into the slaughter of all the women who still did. Women who were also pregnant with more illegitimate heirs to the throne. Many Faceless were slain that day, and some people trying to stop them also added to the fatality count.

“None of the victims survived?” Arete asks, as she and her husband sit by the fire of their bedroom. 

Garon rubs his thumb over her knuckles. “All of them—mothers and children—perished, except for three: Camilla, Leonardo, and Elise. Camilla because she became the most ‘skilled’ at surviving, Leonardo because he kept mainly to himself, and Elise is just a babe. They were taken into hiding with Xander. I know not where, only that they were safe.” 

Arete stares at the dancing flames, their orange luster blooming along the walls of the fireplace and the tips of the ornate rug before it. “The experiences will stay with them, might even traumatize them,” she begins. “But they also don’t deserve to die for things their mothers forced them to do. I’m glad they survived.” 

“I thought you might’ve been relieved all my mistresses and bastard children would be gone.” 

She shakes her head. “I never approved of your promiscuous ways—and never will approve of such a thing in a marriage. But the children shouldn’t have to suffer for the mistakes of their parents.” _A concept I wish I didn’t know so well myself._ “Even if they’ve shed blood, they’re still innocents at their cores.” 

Her husband grunts, and lets a sigh loose. “You’re a very understanding woman. Katerina was too, but more aggressive about her stance.” 

“I just want to help Nohr,” Arete states plainly. “I can’t do that if I’m a peasant or dead.” 

Garon chuckles, not looking at her. “Point made.” He’s quiet for a moment, before asking, “How is Sumeragi holding up?” 

“The man is trying his best to be strong, both for his family and the people. But I have a feeling Ikona’s passing is going to wear him down at some point. It certainly has made the kingdom less joyful. Made even worse that Hoshidan culture has an extensive mourning period. Hinoka’s birthday celebration was canceled too.” 

“She will be missed, and I’ve sent my condolences to him already in a letter.” Garon looks to her, his face serious. “Do you believe in omens, Arete?” 

“Not particularly. Why?” 

“Unfortunate things happen in groups of threes. It’s common the last thing is always the worst one. Ikona dies, then my mistresses. I worry about the third event.” 

Arete takes his hand in both of hers, “Listen to me, my love,” and clasps them tightly together. “Even if a third event is the worst of the trio, you must _not_ give up hope that something good will come out of it. Without hope, then there’s no point in putting energy into anything, is there?” 

“No, I suppose not.” 

Even so, she can’t help but feel unnerved herself. Ikona’s death was orchestrated, and the Faceless are now roaming about somewhere in the deepest pit of the dungeons without a master to instruct them. She might have to destroy the unholy abominations herself, lest Anankos extend his reach to those hulking monstrosities of strength and destruction. 

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


For the first time in a long while, Xander’s birthday is filled with mirth instead of anxiousness. There aren’t any of his siblings lying in wait to literally stab him in the back. Or concubines to passive-aggressively tell him he’s just another year closer to death. No child should be experiencing such things on their special day. 

Arete takes up most of the planning for his birthday. Seeing as it’s around harvest time, they have a fresh stock of fruits and vegetables to make a big dinner. The city of Windmire celebrates on its own with games and small street plays. The royal family visits the main square for about an hour or so in the afternoon before heading back to the castle. 

Xander smiles like the child he is once his cake is brought out after dinner. It’s triple tiered with purple frosting and raspberries encircling the top. Vanilla cream is bunched up on each of the edges of the tiers, like tiny clouds. And all along the cake are edible golden flakes, a successful invention from their pastry chef. Inside is chocolate breading with raspberry jam in between. 

She hasn’t seen him smile like that in a long, long time. Camilla is there next to him, clapping, and Leo is on his tip-toes to look over the table. Elise giggles in the arms of her nanny Casita, almost like she’s cheering on her big brother on his 11th birthday. Azura sits next to him, smiling. Not speaking much, but nonetheless looking calm and serene. It’s the first time she actually asked her mother to help her dress nice, and even have her hair tied back in a lace ribbon. 

_My little songbird doesn’t need to hide anymore. Good. Show them your radiance, Azura._  

“Garon,” Arete begins as they watch from seats close by, “have you thought any more about Ikona’s proposal?” 

“You mean the one she asked of you on her deathbed?” The man hums, taking a sip of wine. “I’ve talked it over with Iago and a few others from the council. Iago strongly opposed it, saying we needn’t waste resources on keeping a royal heir both guarded and provided for so far away for what sounds like a long time. Some of the other council members thought it was a good idea however, and about two agreed with Iago.” 

“Except your word outweighs all of theirs combined. What do _you_ say?” 

He makes a noncommittal grunt. “I understand what Ikona aims to do with this, even in the next life. If what her diviners said is true—that continued peace between our countries is vital, then I suppose I can send off one of my children to become a diplomat. Question is, which one?” 

Like Ikona had said, it cannot be Xander or Ryoma to take up the arrangement. Being the crown princes of their respective nations, they need to focus on preparing for the throne when the time comes. Illegitimate children of royalty or nobility are usually not claimed by the aristocratic parent. But with the concubines gone, and their families back home having no ties to them, Garon’s remaining offspring can be considered for the throne. Camilla would be next in line, should anything happen to Xander. She’s the first crown princess after all. Leo is still too young, as is Elise. 

But, there is one child who would be the least risk to the council, as much as it sours Arete to think of it. 

“How about Azura?” she suggests. “My daughter isn’t tied to your blood, even though she’s now a princess. The council wouldn’t think twice about sending her out there far away for who knows how long.” 

Garon gives her a mildly astonished look. “She’s still my daughter too, even if I didn’t sire her.” 

“I know, my love, but she has no ‘biological’ claim to the throne.” Arete takes his hand, giving it a pat. “She’d be better suited for a diplomat. It’d give her a sense of worth when she ages, and she’s already been to Hoshido. The girl loves the scenery and the food. She has the best understanding of the culture so far, aside from Xander. Maybe even slightly more than him.” 

“Hmm,” he glances to his step-daughter who’s giggling as she points out a bit of cream on Xander’s cheek, “well I suppose that’s something to think about. I’ll speak it over with Sumeragi. This time, you will be present so we can discuss matters without too much back and forth communication.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

And so, the following day, Garon sets up a meeting with Sumeragi via the communication opal. Arete sits by his side as Garon keeps the stone on a pedestal at the center of a round table. A few other council members are also present. Iago is there by obligation, though she’d prefer he have as little to do with this as possible. She doesn’t need him trying to analyze the spell she used for the gem, lest he try to pervert it for his own shady reasons. 

“So you’re sending Azura for the diplomat program?” Sumeragi asks. His voice causes the stone to pulsate a glow whenever he speaks. “I suppose that makes sense.” 

“Yes,” Garon replies. “As Arete already pointed out, Azura has the closest history with Hoshido so far. Xander can’t go for obvious reasons. Camilla is the crown princess, and Leo and Elise are too young. It’d waste time waiting for them to grow old enough to send them.” 

“I agree. Unfortunately, I still haven’t decided which of my own children to send. Ryoma is out of the question, and so next would be Hinoka. But she’s been… difficult lately. The death of her mother is still affecting her. Takumi and Sakura are in the same situation as your two youngest.” 

She knows she shouldn’t suggest it. But her daughter needs to subtly begin preparing for the fated burden on her shoulders too. Her and her cousin. “What about Miss Mikoto’s child? Ikona seemed to care a lot for her.” 

On the other end, the line is silent for a few moments. “You mean Kamui,” Sumeragi starts carefully. “Why?” 

“The girl is close to Azura’s age—only a year her junior. If you send her, you won’t risk having any of your children in danger.”

“Yes, but…” 

“Who is Kamui?” Garon asks, looking at his wife. “And Mikoto?” 

“Mikoto was Ikona’s personal attendant. She acted as a nurse and a nanny, even a confidant. Kamui is her daughter.” The rest of the council look at Arete with cocked eyebrows and downturned lips. One old coot is asleep. Good to know he cares little about the balance of peace between the biggest nations.

“It’d be beneficial,” Arete starts before anyone can say anything, “for two girls of the same age to be the ones for this project. Girls are more understanding and get along better.” It’s a lie, of course. Girls can be just as nefarious as boys in certain circumstances, but she needs _some_ excuse to have her niece grow up with her daughter. “Azura is timid but kind, and what I know of Kamui, she’s friendly and outgoing. I believe with their opposing traits, they can help the other grow. And like I said, neither Azura nor Kamui have blood ties to the royal family, despite my girl being a princess by law.” 

She knows Azura would be hurt if she ever found out about Arete’s fib in order to manipulate the situation in her favor. Azura is just as much of a princess as the other children. Hearing the lie come out of her own mouth burns on her tongue like acid. _I must do what I can, even if it hurts to say it._ “Should anything happen to them, at least it wouldn’t be as great of a loss as, say, Camilla and Hinoka.” 

Nobody at the table retorts, probably because they still don’t consider Arete a real queen. They care about Azura even less. Iago, however, narrows his eyes her way, but she pays him no mind. She curls her hand into a fist, her forearm flat against the table. “What say you, Sumeragi?”

“I will consider this new option,” he replies. “Let me speak it over with my council tomorrow, and I should give you an answer by the following afternoon. How does that sound?” 

“Very well,” answers Garon. “We’ll expect your call, Hoshidan time.” 

The meeting ends shortly thereafter, with the council quick to head to supper. Iago saunters by as Garon and Arete make their way to the dining hall. 

“A rather bold move,” he says, grinning. “But who is this Kamui? She just sounds like a peasant.” 

“Except Ikona adored her enough to treat her like her own daughter,” Arete snaps back. “Last I heard, Mikoto was being considered for an advisor.” Another lie, but the snake doesn’t know that. “Diplomats don’t always have to come from an aristocratic family. They can earn their title through hard work, and I know in my gut the girl will give it her all. Or are you discrediting your own journey from dirty swamp urchin to royal advisor and tactitian, Iago? Must I remind you that—” 

“ _Yes_ , your majesty,” he interrupts, his lip curling. “Of course. Pardon me for speaking out of line. I should know better than to criticize that kind of situation.” 

“Acknowledging your mistakes is the first step to bettering yourself as a person.” 

He sneers at her before excusing himself. His cape billows behind him as turns sharply on his heel. Iago grumbles as he disappears down the dimly lit hallway, opposite of the kitchens. 

“My jewel,” Garon starts when the dining hall’s doors are in sight, “it was… strange of you to mention Azura possibly dying wouldn’t matter.” 

“I’m being realistic,” she replies solemnly. “Dear, I know what— _how_ the council still sees me and my child. Azura is only a princess because of my marriage to you. A good chunk of the kingdom still can’t accept me as their queen either. While Notre Sagesse is safe, there’s still a chance somebody might try to do something should a child with royal blood be staying there. They gain nothing by killing two peasant girls.” 

“Security will be increased either way,” Garon responds after a pause. “I know you’re trying to be pragmatic, but as far as I’m concerned, Azura is as much of a princess as Camilla or Elise, blood or not. Like you said, my word is law. No matter what the council or citizens think, she _is_  a part of this royal family, and always will be. If anyone disagrees, I’ll see to it they change their mind. Quickly.” 

Arete smiles, looping her arm around his. “Thank you, my love. It means a lot to me to hear you say that.” 

He’s not the greatest man, she’ll admit. Far from her standards of an ideal husband too. But at least he cares about Azura as if he was her real father, and that’s really all that matters in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, if FE14 can have bikini armor, then it can have communication stones. And that's that.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	21. XXI

The mourning doesn’t stop until a month after the new year. Mikoto figures the Hoshidan citizens grew tired of grieving, knowing it won’t bring back their beloved queen. The coroners concluded that Ikona was poisoned, though they don’t know how. Her organs had strange purple blotches all over them, the usual internal signs of having ingested the venom from the Black Mire mushroom. Not that Mikoto can share that information, unfortunately. 

Kamui hasn’t been allowed out of the castle since her transformation. Sumeragi is apprehensive in letting Takmui continue to play with her too. “Only until she can learn how to control her dragon form,” he says. “I’m sorry, Mikoto.” 

“It’s not me who’s being punished for having been born.” 

“Please, be reasonable about this.” 

“No, I do understand,” she admits. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to Prince Takumi. But I ask _you_ to understand why I’m still upset anyway.” Mikoto continues to squash herbs in the mortar with her pestle. On a shelf behind her, she has several jars with different ground herbs and fungi, among other things. Since Ikona died, Mikoto has been reassigned to working in the infirmary, as Sakura got an actual nanny to watch over her. 

“She’s safe here, at least,” is all he can offer after a long pause. 

Mikoto doesn’t reply back. Instead she smashes the ingredients with more force. Sumeragi lingers around for a moment, awkwardly pretending to be interested in the labeled jars, “Good day, Miss Mikoto,” before finally leaving. 

Yes, Kamui is safe within the castle complex. But it’s still nothing more than a glorified cage. 

Reinforced by the fact that her daughter isn’t even allowed to attend any of the birthdays for the royal children. It became a ‘safety rule’ since Takumi turned 5 last December. “The girl can join again when she’s learned to temper her beast,” the council had decreed. And so, Kamui misses out on the following birthdays of Sakura’s 3rd, and Ryoma’s 12th. Come June, the only people to acknowledge her own 7th birthday are Yuugiri and Orochi. 

“Thank you,” Mikoto says, as she’s taking down her dried laundry from the line outside, “for remembering my daughter’s birthday.” Each of them brought a present for the girl, and place it in her laundry basket. 

“Of course.” Yuugiri smiles at her, nodding. “Lady Ikona wouldn’t have stood for this treatment, despite your daughter’s unique attributes. She was very understanding.” 

“She never blamed me for my fortunes,” Orochi added. She twirls a lock of lavender hair around her finger, looking up at the sky. At 13 years old, she’s grown into a promising mage, though doesn’t give as many fortunes now. “Even if they were bad, she always said I had a gift.” 

“And you do.” Mikoto piles the folded laundry into the basket, lifting it up and balancing it against her hip. “Not everyone can be blessed with divine foresight. People don’t always like to hear the truth, but you know what I think? It’s less cruel than to live in a lie.” 

Orochi grins, clasping her hands behind her back. “That’s true! I try to live by that, like how the other day I told Saizo his face is gonna stay like that if he keeps frowning all the time. The guy’s a grump!” She pouts, crossing her arms. “Why can’t he be nicer like Kaze?” 

“That’s what makes that pair of twins unique, don’t you think?” 

“I _guess._ ” 

Yuugiri chuckles, patting Orochi on the head. “We better be going. I must continue drilling the new Kinshi Knights, and Orochi has some sparring to do with Lord Ryoma again.” 

“He’s too _fast_ ,” she whines. “Not that I’m gonna admit it aloud to him, but it’s getting harder and harder to hit him with my magic! And he just has a dumb katana. He can’t get close to me, but still!” 

“I’m sure you’ll get there someday, Orochi,” Mikoto encourages. “Just keep at it, and one day you’ll be even faster than him. He won’t be able to dodge your magic attacks anymore.” 

“Y’know, you’re right!” The girl strikes a pose, fanning out her Rat Scroll in one hand. “He won’t be able to stop me once I figure him out, and I will!” Then she shrugs. “Or if all else fails, I can just use my feminine charm to distract him. I’m pretty cute.” 

“Well let’s not opt for that too often, okay?” Mikoto pats her on the shoulder. “Keep up the hard work with your training. In the long run, that’ll be overwhelmingly more effective than how you look.” 

“If you say so, ‘Koto. Can I call you that?” 

She hasn’t heard that name since she last saw Yukiko. Or Daichi. Or any of her other friends. Maybe now that she has enough money saved, and the Sister Search Fund is obsolete, she can go back to the village and visit. Sumeragi will have to let her do _that_ much. It’s not like Kamui is going anywhere.

“Of course,” she replies. “That nickname sounds lovely.” 

When she gets back to her room, the sliding panel to the balcony is open. Kamui is facing the view, drawing with a brush on a piece of paper. “What are you doing, my sweet?” Mikoto sets down the laundry basket on the table, and then sits next to her daughter. 

“I’m drawing the mountains,” Kamui points to faded mountains in the distance, “because I got tired of drawing butterflies.” 

“Well it looks nice so far.” 

“Thank you, Mama.” 

She doesn’t smile, only sticks out her tongue at the corner of her lips as she tries for detail. But she’s still so sloppy with her artwork. Kamui paints with too much ink, and in the end her drawings always look like silhouettes instead of something immediately recognizable. Mikoto hangs them all up in the room regardless. 

“When I went to go get our clothes,” she starts, “Yuugiri and Orochi gave me something.” 

“What is it?” 

“Presents, for you.” 

Kamui puts her brush aside, and looks at her mother with wide eyes. “Presents? Why?”

“It’s your birthday, sweetie. Don’t you remember? I told you ‘happy birthday’ when we woke up.” 

“Oh, no,” she wipes her hands on her pants, and when she runs out of room, wipes it on the summer vest Mikoto had gotten from Yuugiri last year, “I know it’s my birthday. But I didn’t think I’d get any presents.” She follows Mikoto to the laundry basket, looking up at her mother. 

“Why ever not?” 

“Um, well when you were gone to get our clothes,” she starts, “Kaze came to visit me. He told me ‘happy birthday’ and then gave me this cute little bunny. See?” From her pocket, she takes out a small wooden figurine carved in the shape of a rabbit. “Bunnies are cute. I like them a lot. And puppies and kitties.” 

“How nice of him!” 

“Yeah,” she puts the figurine back in her pocket, “but then Saizo came to pick him up ‘cause they were gonna go on a mission, and sorta got mad at him. Said their papa told them to be careful around me and so he shouldn’t have given me a present.” Kamui picks at the dry ink underneath her fingernails, hanging her head. “Because he said I’m really dangerous. But I don’t wanna hurt them, Mama. They’re… Th-They’re my friends.” 

She looks up at Mikoto again, her eyes wet. “I didn’t mean to hurt that boy. I was only trying to protect Takumi and Kaze. But now n-nobody wants to be my friend or play with me. All the other kids of the castle run away from me and call me names. Am I being punished? I-I’m sorry, Mama….” 

Mikoto drops down and brings her daughter into a tight embrace. Kamui wraps her arms around her mother, and cries into her shoulder. Mikoto strokes her hair, and kisses the top of her head. “Don’t be sorry,” she soothes, “because your mama isn’t mad. It’s not your fault you can turn into a dragon, okay? It’s not your fault.” 

Kamui cries until she tells Mikoto she wants to nap. Mikoto sits by her as she sleeps, massaging the top of her head with her fingertips. It’s a gesture that always helps her calm down whenever she’s upset. And as things are now, she’s going to be upset for a long time to come. 

_It’s not your fault. Please Kamui, it’s not your fault. One day, you must believe that._  

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Surprisingly, Mikoto actually gets permission to leave the castle and go visit her old village. It’s around this time that they should be displaying their wares in the marketplace. She searches for the familiar cart, and sighs when she finds it. Butterflies swarm in her stomach, and a smile stretches upon her lips. 

The first face she sees is Kiyo’s. Or, actually her back. She’s busy aligning pottery up on the shelves. 

“These are beautiful,” Mikoto says. “I like that earthen green one. Would make an excellent decoration for my room. Reminds me of moss.” 

“Well you’ve come to the right place!” Kiyo turns around. “And if you’re interested, we also sell…,” her eyes go wide, and she gasps, “ _Mikoto?!_ ” 

“Hello, Kiyo.” She waves. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” 

Kiyo rushes out the side door of the building and envelops Mikoto in a bear-like hug. “Gods, I feel like it’s been a hundred years!” She starts crying, “I wanted to march up here when I heard why you had to stay!”, and sniffs. “But then Daichi talked me out of it; said I wasn’t gonna change the king’s mind. Nobody will.” 

“Unfortunately, he was right.” Mikoto pats her back, rubbing soothing circles into it. “But he granted me permission to go visit the village. If I can, I’d like to train some more of the doctors there. I’ve learned a lot myself.” 

“Oh, that’d be great!” Kiyo holds her by the arms. “How long can you stay?” 

“Not too long, sadly. You said it takes about a week to get here, and another back. I can stay for a week, and then make the trip home. So, I’ll be out of the castle for a month.” 

“Great! Seems kinda stuffy up there on that hill anyway.” Kiyo escorts her into the shop, and Mikoto drops her bag of belongings near a stool. “So how’s your little girl? My Mozu’s getting bigger every day! She’s 3 now. Back home with Daichi.” 

“That’s wonderful to hear. As for Kamui, she’s… alright.” 

Kiyo gives her a look. “Oh no, I know that face. What happened?” 

“I’d rather tell you in private.” 

Until dinner time, Mikoto helps Kiyo sell the village’s wares to customers. By evening, other people come for their turn in vendor shifts. A few recognize Mikoto and greet her heartily. Upstairs, she explains all that has happened since she last saw any of her old friends. Kiyo says nothing, only making grunts or shaking her head at anything that upsets her. When Mikoto is certain they’re really alone, she whispers about Kamui’s other half. 

At first, she fears Kiyo is going to speak of demons like Daichi used to. To her surprise, she claps her hands together, “A gift,” and then places her palms on Mikoto’s shoulders, “from the gods themselves!”

“You… don’t think it’s strange?” 

“Hell _yeah_ I think it’s strange as shit. But not in a bad way! It’s not every day humans are blessed with such gifts from the gods! Like, yeah I guess the royal families still have that ol’ dragon blood in their veins, but they can’t actually become one! It’s been way watered down through the generations, right?” 

“Um, yes I believe that’s how it works.” 

Kiyo sits back, crossing her arms as she nods. “That little girl was always special, and not ‘cause her eyes or ears are different.” 

“If only the castle inhabitants saw her as you do.” Mikoto sets her bowl down, neatly laying her chopsticks on top. “Because of what happened, she can’t leave the complex. Ever. And while she can roam around within, she’s lost all the friends she’s made. She didn’t have many to begin with. The adults don’t say it aloud like the children, but I know they still think she’s a monster.” 

“Listen to me, Mikoto,” Kiyo starts. “I’ve trusted my gut since I knew what a gut was. And you know something? It’s never been wrong for me, never!” She points at her, waggling her finger. “One day they’re gonna change their minds about your girl’s gift. Instead of being shitheads about it, they’re gonna be praising her. Just you wait; you’ll see. That’s what my gut is telling me.” 

She doesn’t quite believe it, but it’s nice to hear such a hopeful and positive response after everything that’s happened. “Thank you. Really, it means a lot to me.” 

“Only speaking the truth.” 

When the village’s three-day trip is over, Mikoto travels back with them. Before she left the castle, Sumeragi gave her a map so she can find her way back home. Part of her wonders if he only agreed to this request to slowly step foot in her good graces again. Ever since the social ban on Kamui, Mikoto has ignored him, only speaking when spoken to. Always in formal response too. He lost the privilege of being friends. 

_I wonder, would he have treated Kamui the same if we were still Vallite royals? Is it because we’re ‘peasants’ that this treatment is warranted? If he knew she was a demigoddess, would he and the others be praising her for a blessing like they do at the shrines?_  

Mikoto tries not to think about it through the duration of her trip. Instead she catches up with old friends and joins them on hunts again as they make their way back to the village. It does take almost a week to get there, as she thought before. It’s only slightly faster because of the fair weather the entire expedition. 

The village is bigger than she remembers. There’s at least a dozen more homes. “Thanks to our routes,” Kiyo explains, “some people wanted to live here. Who knew so many people could find romance selling rice!” 

Kiyo’s house is the same too. Only Mikoto’s old room is now being saved for the future. “Gonna be Mozu’s room when she’s older,” Kiyo says. “Right now she’s still tiny enough to sleep next to her ma and pa, but y’know those teenage years can be a real pain in the ass. She might need a place to ‘think’.” 

Mikoto chuckles. “I don’t know. My gut tells me Mozu will be a delight, if she’s anything like you.” 

“Don’t go teasing me now, ‘Koto!” Kiyo laughs, banging on the door frame of the bedroom. “Hey, Dai, got a surprise for you. C’mere.” 

From the room, Daichi walks into the front of the house, Mozu clinging onto his back. She’s giggling, her arms around his neck. A rare, gentle smile is on his face as he pats her head. He stops short when he sees Mikoto. “You…?” 

“I’m back to be a nuisance,” she jokes. “A thorn in your side.” 

Daichi lets Mozu down, who just runs to her mother and clings to her instead. “Mikoto, it’s been… a long time.” 

“Yes, it has. Sorry about that.” 

“No need to be sorry getting held against your will,” he grunts out. 

“It’s not all bad.”

Kiyo gives her husband a look, lightly shaking her head. “Oh,” he says, “no, you’re lying.” He walks over to the kitchen area, taking out a teapot and some cups. “Sit. We’re gonna talk.” 

She doesn’t mind retelling her history at the castle. Kiyo is gone to put Mozu in a nap, and then will join a hunting party to prepare for dinner later. Daichi listens intently. Like his wife, he doesn’t interrupt Mikoto once, allowing her to continue speaking until she’s finished. 

“Your kid really can turn into something, huh?” He takes a sip of his tea. “I knew it.” 

“But she’s not a demon.”

“No,” he reaches forward for the teapot, pouring himself some more, “guess not. Sounds more like she was defending herself from a spoiled brat who didn’t wanna pick on somebody his own size.” 

“True, but now she’s being ostracized because of it.” 

Daichi grunts again. “It’s gonna bite them in the ass one day. Mark my words; you’ll see. What goes around, comes around.” When he’s done pouring his tea, he asks, “You want more?” 

_Just like Kiyo. He’s come a long way from patronizing me, hasn’t he?_ “Yes, more tea sounds lovely.” 

Getting reacquainted with her friends puts a skip in her step wherever she goes. She spends a whole day instructing the new healers on better techniques and giving them an illustrated copy of medicinal herbs and fungi. She figures pictures will get through the memory faster than just words. The rest of her time, she visits the families living there, and keeping Itsuki’s wife company. He has a little girl, and seeing her large innocent eyes reminds her of the child she left back at the castle. 

“Something wrong?” the woman asks as she’s washing the kitchenware. 

“No, nothing. It’s just seeing your precious girl makes me miss my own.” 

“Oh, I’d feel the same way. Shirasagi is kinda far from here. But I heard it’s nice!” 

_Yes, if you’re human._  

Unfortunately, her trip is interrupted about three days later. The white opal’s black vein has lit up, and Mikoto quickly mutters the incantation to listen to the message. It’s from Arete, as she’s the only one who even knows about the stone in the first place. 

“Mikoto,” the message begins in her voice, “I wouldn’t call you if it wasn’t urgent. But Yukiko was talking with me a while ago, before being mysteriously cut off. There was a scream and some crashing, so I don’t know what could’ve possibly happened. I’ve already told Sumeragi; he’s the closest to help. But since you told me you’d be on your trip—please, check up on Yukiko. I heard her yelling something about ‘flashing purple’. It sounds a lot like those invisible undead from _him._ Please, hurry….” 

Her stomach sinks as she packs up all of her belongings into her bag again not a second later. She praises the gods that it’s still early enough in the morning for her to head out. 

Kiyo walks by the window, hauling a large bundle of wood. “Something up, ‘Koto? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

“It’s nothing, really,” she lies. “I’ve just been requested to return to the castle. It’s an emergency.” 

“I didn’t see a letter or anything.”

“O-Oh, no you—well I’ll explain as I go out.” 

A mistake she shouldn’t have made, telling Kiyo about the stone. Not that it really matters, she supposes. Kiyo won’t think twice about it. But Sumeragi will find it suspicious she has one from Arete, and she doesn’t know if telling him she’s her sister will activate a minor effect of the curse. _I might have to tell him somehow anyway. It’s getting taxing trying to hide it from everyone._  

Nobody is excited to see her leave, and Itsuki even tries to convince her to stay another day. “My wife makes the best food!” he pleads. “We wanted to have you over for dinner! She’s gonna make her famous squash soup!” 

“I’ll come back sometime,” she promises. “I’m sorry; I just really need to go.” 

Daichi and a small party offer to take her back home. When she protests because of the length of the trip, he reasons, “We were gonna make another trading expedition anyway to nearby villages. But since you’re so insistent about us not being bothered, we’ll compromise. Only all the way to Izumo we’ll guide you. Deal?” 

“Yes, okay.” 

And so, her anxiety festers for three whole days as she counts on her map the number of squares away they are from Izumo. 

_That wretched Anankos. Exactly what is he trying to gain by doing this?_  

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Her mama is gone on a trip. That’s what Yuugiri said, that her mama will be back in a few weeks. Kamui knows why she can’t go. It’s because she’s still punished. She’s not punished to stand in a corner, or not getting dessert after dinner. But she can’t leave the castle. And nobody wants to talk to her, except her mama. And sometimes Yuugiri and Orochi. 

But they’re both busy with training. She can only see them when they bring her food during breakfast, an afternoon snack, and then dinner. She always has to be in her room at breakfast and dinner, but it’s okay if she’s not there during snack time. Most days they find her playing outside by herself. Or sometimes—and she doesn’t tell her mama because she’ll get mad—she just eats a grasshopper or a snail if she sees them on a plant. They taste good, so she doesn’t know why her mama always gets mad if she eats bugs. The birds and lizards do it, and nobody complains. 

It’s afternoon now, so she can go outside. She waves hello to people she passes by in the castle, the ones in fancy clothes and the ones who work there, but they ignore her. Like she’s a ghost. Because they sometimes run away or walk away quickly. She’s not allowed to play with Takumi, or Hinoka, and especially not Sakura or Ryoma. It makes her sad because she likes being around them. Well, Hinoka ignores her now too like the other kids sometimes. Or she walks away, saying she’s busy. 

Kamui wishes the nice lady was still around, Miss Ikona. She was the queen, but her mama said Ikona went away to a better place. She was really sick until her body couldn’t handle it anymore. ‘Died’, is what her mama called it. Kamui doesn’t want to think about when her own mama will ‘died’ because she really loves her mama. Her mama is nice and pretty and always gives her warm hugs. 

She’s also the only person who smiles at her every day, and tells her she’s special. 

When Kamui gets to the garden, she walks barefoot along the terrace. She still hates shoes, but sometimes when it’s cold and snowing, she has to wear them. Being cold is the worst feeling, but she likes playing in the snow. And when it’s cold, she gets to drink extra delicious hot tea and lie underneath the  _kotatsu._  

Around the corner of the terrace are some kids. She knows they’re the kids from the families that live in the castle, the ones who cook and clean for everybody else. The servants, like her mama. 

They’re trying to catch beetles on the trees. Kamui smiles, and runs up to them. “Can I play? I’m really good at catching bugs. And seeing them!” She points to a tree several feet away. “Like there’s a big green one right there.” 

Immediately they stop, and one kid jumps off the tree. He glares at her, “No, you can’t play,” and picks up a rock, tossing it up and down in his hand. “Mama said we’ll be cursed if you do, ‘cause you’re a monster.” 

There’s that word again she doesn’t like. ‘Monster’. It means something evil, and now she knows evil is an ugly thing that nobody likes. But she’s not evil. She just wants to play. 

“I won’t hurt anyone,” she tries. “I’ll catch all the beetles for you if you want. I know some are hard to get, and I’m a good climber.” 

“Go away.” The boy throws the small rock at her. “You’ll probably just eat them like the lizards do.” 

“No, I-I won’t. This time.” 

“ _This_ time?” He laughs, picking up a pebble. “Eww, so you _do_ eat bugs! Do you have a long tongue like a lizard too?” 

“W-Wait, I really—” 

“Didn’t you hear him?” a girl says, picking up a stick and throwing it. “He said you can’t play! Go away, monster!”

The other kids laugh, picking up more pebbles and sticks and throwing them at her. They sing about her being a lizard monster that likes to eat gross bugs. Kamui covers her head and turns away, running as fast as she can. She clutches onto the pouch that her mama made for her. Inside it is the dragonstone, a pretty rock that her mama said she needs to have on her all the time. It’s blue like the crystal-clear water. “Because if you ever feel like you might turn into a dragon again,” her mama said the day she got the stone, “then just hold this close to your heart, okay? Focus on the pretty colors, and food you like to eat, your favorite animal, and even your mama.” 

Kamui takes out the stone and holds it tightly in her hands, pressing it over her heart. She stops running, crouching behind a large boulder. She breathes in an out, because her mama said that also helps. The stone glows slightly, but nothing happens. She’s still human. 

“Still normal. That’s good.” 

Nearby she hears different voices of laughter. Slowly she sneaks up to the bamboo reeds, looking through the slits into another part of the garden. Ryoma is there with Saizo, Kagero, and Kaze. But also Hinoka, and her new friend Setsuna. Another noble girl. (She’s nice to Kamui, but she’s only seen her a few times.) Takumi is there too with his new friends Oboro and Hinata. She knows Oboro’s parents make clothes sometimes—the ‘uniforms’—for the staff in the castle. And Hinata is training to be Takumi’s ‘retainer’, which is the most skilled guard to protect a royal person. He has a wooden sword strapped to his waist.

From the distance, she sees Orochi approaching. In her arms is a basket of fruit. There’s peaches and oranges, apples, and even others she hasn’t seen before. Everyone cheers, picking some fruit and sharing with the group. 

“Oh, there’s a tangerine,” Kamui mumbles. “Those are really good. And pears.” 

Ryoma walks in her direction, peeling a tangerine as he goes. Kamui ducks lower to the ground. Did he see her? Oh no. She’s not supposed to be here. She’ll get in big trouble with the old people in fancy clothes if she’s near the royal children. Oh no, no. She doesn’t want to get scolded, because then her mama will get in trouble too. And the worst thing—even worse than being cold—is seeing her mama sad. 

Kamui runs away, tripping over a rock. She whines as she gets up, and keeps running. Her knee stings, but it’s fine. It’s not a bad injury, and if she washes it, it’ll be okay. Her cuts heal quickly for some reason. She doesn’t always need medicine either. Most wounds go away by the next day, and everyone else’s usually stay on their skin for a much longer time. 

Eventually she comes to the biggest pond in the garden. Kamui dips her feet into the water at the bank, and then sits down. She puts the stone away in its pouch then cups her hands, pouring water over to her knee. It washes off all the dirt and the tiny bit of blood. “There, it’s okay now.” 

A frog croaks nearby, and hops over to her. It stares at her, its throat turning into a huge bubble. Kamui picks it up and pets its slimy body. It feels nice to the touch, cool and fresh, on a hot summer day. “I’m sorry I ate one of your family last year,” she says. “I didn’t mean it. I just got really hungry. But I promise not to eat frogs anymore.” 

It croaks again, and Kamui continues to pet it. “You wanna go back in the water? Okay.” She stands up and goes into the pond up to her knees. She slips the animal into the water, slowly. “Good bye, frog.” It swims away, before hopping over a rock and disappearing. 

Water is another thing that she really likes. It’s fresh, and if it’s boiled, then it’s good for tea and other foods. It’s also nice to drink on its own. But it has to be from a clean place, because that’s how people get sick too. And you can usually make water clean with magic, or boil it with fire. Hot water is especially amazing when it’s winter. Usually she gets to cuddle under the covers with her mama on those days. 

But, water also helps her transform easier. It doesn’t hurt as much. 

_Maybe I should practice. The more I practice, the faster I can have friends and not be punished anymore._  

Kamui takes the stone out, and closes her eyes. The sound of rushing water fills her ears, and she only feels a little sore. When she opens her eyes, she can’t see anything. Just colors and shapes again. But she can smell the kitchen smoke from far away, and knows pork is being grilled alongside some squash and carrots. Somebody was eating a peach because she can smell the core nearby. The pond also smells like wet plants and fish. There’s worms digging in the sand beneath her feet, and there’s a hive somewhere nearby. A lot of bees deeper within the garden. Maybe there’s even honey there too some of the cooks can get later. 

In a way, it’s sort of cool that she can hear, smell, and feel things other people can’t. But she still wishes she could see the same as her human form. When Kaze came to visit in the room the other day, she asked him to draw how she looks as a dragon. He’s a good artist, a lot better than her. Maybe it’s because he’s older. When he had finished, she yelled and shook her head. Because it looked like what everyone has been calling her: a monster. 

Her dragon form has legs bent backward at the elbows and knees. The wings are tiny, and her fingers are long and have claws. Her tail is thin and almost as long as her body. She has no eyes, like he had said before. And her mouth is weird. It doesn’t have a back like it should with other animals. It almost looks like a metal jaw hanging where a mouth should be. Her scales aren’t colorful like she had hoped; they’re just a light gray, like a blade. Some dark blue scales are underneath her long neck and her belly. Her face is plain too. The top of it is also dark blue, and the bottom is also the same light gray color. There’s nubs on the sides her head where her jaw connects, and Kaze thinks horns might grow because that’s how male deer grow their horns. 

The dragon is ugly. Really ugly. She hates it. So, so much. And that’s what she’s going to look like. Forever. 

“I _am_ a monster,” she says. Her voice does this echo thing when she’s in her dragon form. “Dragons are supposed to be cool and beautiful, like the Dawn Dragon and all the other old ones. But this is just ugly. I don’t even look like a real dragon. Just… a demon. Like that bully said.” 

Kamui lays on the shore where the water cools her belly. She tucks her tail around her, and curls up next to a boulder. When she’s a dragon, the water feels the best. It makes her sleepy, but it also makes her feel more energized. Like if she had taken medicine. Her claws dig into the sand, and she can feel a worm squirming next to her thumb. 

“Now, what are you doing all the way out here?” 

She splashes around and reaches for her stone, turning back into a human. Her clothes don’t rip anymore when she does that. Yuugiri made her some special outfits that are enchanted. (She had to use some scales from her dragon form.) Her mama said the clothes disappear when she’s a dragon, but then reappear when she’s a human again. That’s good though, because being naked is super weird. People laugh at you if you’re naked, and she’s tired of being laughed at. 

“I w-was practicing,” Kamui says, holding her stone close. 

The king, Sumeragi, is standing there with Kaze’s papa, Old Saizo. “My lord, are you sure it’s wise to be out here? She could have another episode and attack you.” 

Kamui bows, because that’s what you’re supposed to do with royalty when you greet them. Her mama taught her that. “I’m sorry. I won’t—I don’t want to hurt anybody.” 

But Old Saizo doesn’t believe her. He’s making the same face like the other adults. The face that makes them look like they smell something rotten, or they ate something disgusting. Kamui can’t look at him. She just stares at her feet, hoping they’ll get bored and go away. 

“It’s alright,” Sumeragi says. “I don’t think she wants to harm me.” 

“Milord, I must insist—” 

“She’s just a child, Saizo. I’ll be fine.” 

The man grunts and bows. Then he disappears before she can even blink. Ninja are really cool that way. 

Kamui digs her toes into the soft sand of the pond’s edge. The king is the most important person in Hoshido, and so she can’t do or say anything that’ll make him angry or get her mama in trouble. Her mama never said that to her, but one time she overhead Yuugiri mentioning it to somebody. 

“I have my stone,” she starts. “I always keep it with me so I don’t transform. And I didn’t play with your kids. I promised.” 

“I know; I saw.” 

Oh no. The _king_ saw her ignoring the rules. She looks up at him with wide eyes, gulping. The man points to the fourth floor of the castle. “I happened to be on the balcony there, and saw you scurrying about.” He crosses his arms, staring at her. “Those children collecting beetles, they were throwing rocks at you. And you just ran away.” 

“Yeah….” Kamui traces the facets of the stone in her hand. “I didn’t want to transform.” 

“Didn’t it hurt when they hit you?” 

She nods. “But it’s okay. I don’t wanna hurt anybody like last time. And I can play with the frogs and the cute ducklings if I see them.” 

“But if somebody is hurting you, you need to defend yourself, Kamui.” 

The girl shakes her head vigorously. “I’m—I need to be in my room before dinner, ‘cause that’s when Orochi or ‘Giri bring me food. And I won’t get any if I’m not there because the cooks get mad when they have to cook me extra because I missed my time.” She bows quickly. “Good bye your ma…,” she practices it on her tongue first, “ma… juhs-tee.” Kamui bows again before fleeing across the pond’s bridge, back into the castle. 

It’s in sight after a few jumps over rocks and flowers, and she runs faster. As she’s scurrying along the terrace, she bumps into Ryoma. The girl falls on her rear, but quickly gets back up. 

“Oh, hey Kamui,” he greets with a smile. He smells like tangerines. “I haven’t seen you in a—” 

Gasping, she runs the other way, ignoring his shouts of, “Wait!” because she knows she’s not supposed to talk to him, or any of his siblings. They probably think she’s a monster too, just like those other kids. And she doesn’t want to be called a monster any more. Every time she hears the word, she wants to cry. Because she knows people are calling her that, even if her mama says they’re talking about an actual monster in the forest, or in ‘myths’, but she doesn’t know what that is. 

Her vision turns blurry as tears drip down her cheeks, and she wipes the boogers away from her nostrils with her hand. But she keeps running, until she knows she’s in a place where she can’t hurt anybody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was always weird to me that the Avatar being a dragon never... really gets brought up after the first time they transform. Like when the Hoshidan siblings first see it in that cinematic cutscene, it never gets dealt with afterward. Like they're just, "WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?" and then brush it off later like, "oh okay cool" and it gets forgotten for the rest of the story. In all three routes. Nobody ever comments on it again (that I remember), even knowing dragons shifters don't exist, and knowing all the dragon gods ascended a long time ago.
> 
> Like, at the very least, you'd think somebody would mention, "Hey Kamui, why do you have pointy ears, slit pupils, and little fangs?" I mean, she doesn't have fur, animal ears and tails like the wolfskin and kitsune do in their humanoid state, so you'd think people would question it. Lol
> 
> Therefore, I'm making this a subplot of my rewrite. Hope it sounds plausible!
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	22. XXII

Mikoto’s presence in Izumo isn’t questioned by the people there. They simply think she’s passing through on her way back from visiting her old village. Not that the Nohrian queen (secretly her sister) called to tell her that Yukiko is in danger. She has to be careful in how she phrases her request to visit the archduchess.

“Lady Yukiko isn’t seeing anyone today,” one guard says. That’s another strange thing: Izumo is a peaceful and neutral nation—has been for several centuries. Other visiting countries have to leave all their weapons at the heavily fortified gate, including royalty. And yet, there’s guards now. Only in extreme circumstances do the people mobilize like this.

“But why?”

“We’ll let you know when she’s available to speak,” the second guard tells her. “For now, please comfort yourself in one of our many inns.”

She leaves, but doesn’t wander to an inn like they suggested. Instead she sneaks around the castle’s garden, trying to find some way into the upper floors where Yukiko’s room is. On the way there, she spots Izana sitting on a rock, looking up at the setting sun along the horizon.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

He glances at her, blinking. “Oh, hey Miss Mikoto, I didn’t know you were coming. Why are you here?”

“I was returning from a trip to my old village,” she explains, sitting next to him. “Wanted to stop by to say hello, but nobody will let me any further than the first floor. Did something happen, Lord Izana?”

The boy looks down at his lap. It’s the first time she’s seen him frowning so deeply. “Last night Mother was attacked. Some assassin tried to kill her, I think. That’s what they told me. She lived, but she was bleeding a lot.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. The guards said she was busy when I asked.”

“Well they lied. She’s dying, and I know she’s not gonna make it.”

Mikoto places a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t say that, milord. I’m sure everything will—”

“No,” he shakes his head, “it won’t. I asked the gods earlier this morning to help my mother get better. But they didn’t respond for like an hour. And when I finally did hear back, they said I’ll soon take her place. Much sooner than I think.”

She wonders how sick Anankos is to orphan a 13-year-old, one who isn’t anywhere prepared to take his mother’s place yet. “I… I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do to help, I’m here.”

He smiles weakly. “Thanks, but I don’t think there’s anything anybody can do. The healers don’t wanna believe that—would hurt their pride in what they do. But it’s whatever the gods want is what’s gonna happen. It _sucks._ ”

She has no comforting words to tell him. And it’s not like she can keep asking for details of Yukiko’s attack. While she once held leverage being Ikona’s personal attendant, Mikoto has now lost that privilege. She has as much standing in Izumo as a cook. Maybe even less.

Unfortunately, no matter how many times she tries to plead with the guards that she can help, they turn her away every time. One even tells her, “If you couldn’t save Queen Ikona, you can’t save Lady Yukiko. Please leave.” That’s enough to make her chest tighten, and so she walks away with shattered spirits.

The inn she stays at is nice. There’s a hot spring in the back, but she’s not in the mood to pamper herself. Knowing Yukiko won’t live through the night makes her want to scream and throw things. Anankos is weak; that’s what Arete had said. But he’s persistent in his goal to destroy all of humankind, and maybe this is how he’s going to do it in his pathetic state.

Every stone eventually builds up to a mountain.

“Sorry, my sister,” Mikoto murmurs into the opal that night. “I can’t do anything; they won’t let me. Izana is even resigned that his mother will surely die.”

For a moment, it’s silent. Then Arete says, “When I last spoke to her, it was strange. She actually called _me_ , said she had a vision from the gods. A vision of waterfalls and odd flowers that I know are symbolic to our old country, judging by the way she described them. She said I was there, and you too, but we looked younger. You had a sword in your hand, and I had a lance, for whatever reason.”

“We don’t know how to wield either weapon,” she points out. “Are you sure she meant us?”

Arete sighs. “I don’t know. She also said she saw a silhouette of a large dragon, nearly the size of a castle. A dragon with many eyes.”

The coldest chill runs down her spine, and her stomach churns. Her nightmares may have mostly subsided, but she’ll never forget those floating eyes, rotating on some invisible axis. And that awful, horrendous roar.

“But that’s when the line got cut off and she was attacked.”

Mikoto clutches the stone in both hands, pausing, before asking, “Do you think the gods were trying to bring back her memory through dreams?”

“Possibly. But they’re not all primordial gods like _him_ , so it could be why they had trouble accurately restoring her memory.” Arete is silent on the other end for a good minute. “Mikoto, we have to think of every possible situation. What if he knows where we are, but can’t attack us directly, so he’s chipping away at our defense by killing any and all help to stop him?”

“I’d rather just die directly by his hand instead,” she replies bitterly. “Other people don’t need to be suffering for something we did.”

“But we haven’t _done_ anything to begin with. He’s just throwing a tantrum like a child because he’s not remembered every second of every day and decides to destroy the world in retaliation. He’s not the only important thing in existence!”

“I think it might be that sort of thinking that caused him to feel the way he does.”

Arete growls, and gives a shout. “I hate this. I hate that we can’t tell anyone without dying. That’s an extra special sort of suffering he seems to have a lot of fun in playing.”

“We’ll get through this,” Mikoto reassures. “We have to. Not even for our sakes, but for our daughters. And should anything happen to us, then…”

“I haven’t forgotten, don’t worry. As we speak, Azura is training with a tutor. I had her go through some weapons to see which one she’d want to use. Unfortunately, she didn’t inherit my proficiency in magic, so we went with melee weapons. Swords and axes aren’t her thing, and neither is archery. She’s also scared of the wyverns and for whatever reason also scared of horses. Being a rider is out.”

“Oh my, that doesn’t leave a lot of options, does it?”

“No,” Arete replies with the biggest sigh yet. “However, she found a Blessed Lance and became attuned to it, maybe because of the design. So now I’m having her train with a wooden lance. Later I plan to have her incorporate her combat moves with singing, but only once she’s gotten the hang of the heaviest of lances.”

Mikoto smiles, chuckling. “That weapon sounds great for her. It can be used gracefully, twirling it around herself like a dance, and that’s something she’s definitely inherited from you.”

A pleased hum comes from the stone as it lights up. “Thank you. And what of Kamui? Have you figured out her own weapon affinity?”

“I haven’t even figured out how to make her see she isn’t an abomination to the world.”

She recounts to her sister about Kamui’s ill experiences being in Shirasagi Castle. Almost every day some child bullies her for how she looks, or what she is. The adults ignore or sneer at her, and she’s aggressively chased away whenever she wants to visit the Pegasi or Kinshi birds at the stables. The stable hands fear she might transform and eat them. More than once she’s caught Kamui crying in some dark corner of the castle because she’s reminded by others around her that’s she’s offensively abnormal.

“Oh, Mikoto,” Arete begins sadly, “I’m sorry. I had no idea she was going through all of that. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because there’s nothing you can do, unfortunately. You have more important things on your plate, like figuring out Nohr’s problem with the Dragon Veins.”

“Kamui is still my niece, and therefore my family. That always comes first before anything else.”

“A niece nobody is supposed to know about.”

Huffing on the other end, Arete retorts, “Well I’m becoming quite tired of hiding the fact that we’re family. But I just haven’t figured out a way to explain it to everyone, especially when both of our fake histories make it that we’re alone.”

“I think when they’re old enough to keep secrets, we can at least tell the girls.”

“I suppose so.”

They talk throughout the night of missed stories they haven’t yet shared with each other. Such as the concubine massacre at Castle Krakenburg (really, it was only a matter of time), and Mikoto’s new post as a lead healer in the infirmary ward. When the moon is high in the night sky, Arete dismisses herself and bids her sister a good night. Despite the relief of talking with a friendly voice, she can’t sleep. Tomorrow morning she’ll wake up to hear about Yukiko’s demise, she’s sure.

Just another sign of the ever-growing calamity Anankos has for the future.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Ryoma hasn’t seen a whole lot of Kamui since she was released from the prison cell. Often times, he’s not even allowed to go anywhere near her. The dumb old geezers of the council decreed the royal children be protected from the ‘monster’.

Okay, he’ll admit it. He _was_ scared of her at first. Never in his life had he seen a dragon. Yes, Nohr is home to the wyverns, but they don’t look anything like that deer-thing. Wyverns are the only draconic species left. The others had been wiped out, or were the gods in disguise. All of them have ascended to the heavens long ago to watch over the world, and so there shouldn’t be any additional draconic creature left.

So why is Kamui like that?

Miss Mikoto isn’t a dragon, as far as he knows. It must be her father then who is. But how? The gods don’t take physical forms anymore, preferring to come to people in their minds and hearts via prayer. Or he could be a sorcerer of some kind. Like a spell backfired and made him into some sort of dragon-hybrid. (That’s why he doesn’t mess with magic; too many things can go wrong and it also reminds him of Orochi’s annoying laugh.)

“What if she’s part-demon?” Hinoka offers one day. “Like how the noble men and ladies keep saying.”

“She’d be evil if that were true,” he counters. “But she’s not.”

“How do you  _know?_ ” His sister crosses her arms, frowning. “Demons don’t bring anything good. What if that’s why Mother died, because she got cursed?”

“Kamui’s only 7. I don’t think she even knows how to use any of her powers.”

Ever since their mother passed away, Hinoka hasn’t been the same. She was the closest to her, being the first daughter and not having the same responsibilities or training as Ryoma. He understands her sadness, because he misses his mother a lot too. But what he doesn’t understand is how she acts like it’s somehow Kamui’s fault this happened. Hinoka doesn’t like to talk about it though, and always gets mad if he tries to argue. She just tells him he’s stupid and then runs away crying.

He knows not to bug her about it, and excuses himself to go training.

Along the way, he miraculously spots Kamui sitting on a bridge, her legs dangling off the side. Their garden is huge and consists of a lot of ponds and brooks. He sometimes likes to sit on one of the many bridges around, or wade in the water up to his ankles. His mother liked to bring him out here too because it’s peaceful and beautiful. They’d eat lunch while she paints something from the garden, and she’d always talk to him whenever she did.

Kamui is leaning forward against one of the support beams for the railing. On her arm is a green beetle. She’s stroking it with her finger as it slowly crawls along her skin. The girl is staring at it absentmindedly, a deep frown on her small face. There’s a fresh scratch on her cheek, and another on her leg.

“Good morning,” he greets with a smile.

Immediately her eyes go wide as she turns to him. Kamui scrambles to her feet, and the beetle buzzes away. She runs down the bridge with Ryoma sprinting after her, “Wait!” just like he tried the other day. Maybe it’s because she’s part dragon, but he’s never met a faster runner. Except Saizo and Kagero. Kaze too. He can never catch them in his training. Guess that’s how advanced ninja skills are.

“Please,” he tries again, “wait Kamui!”

She shakes her head, “No! I’m not supposed to talk to you!” and keeps running.

Ryoma forces himself to speed up, dropping his sword behind. Unneeded weight. He reaches out and grabs her hand, and she shouts. Kamui keeps shaking her head, trying to tear her arm away from him. She reaches into her pocket and closes her eyes, taking out the dragonstone. The girl places it against her heart.

“Let me go!” she cries. “I’m not supposed to be around you o-or your family! I’m gonna get in trouble!”

“No, no you won’t, I promise!” he pleads. “It’s just—”

Kamui sobs, opening her eyes. He’s never seen anybody look sadder in his whole life. “Please. My mama will get in trouble too,” she explains in a wavering voice. “I don’t want her to get in trouble. I j-just wanted to come out here and play with the frogs and the beetles, b-but I’ll go back inside now. Please don’t tell on me, L-Lord Ryoma….”

She never used to call him that before.

The girl sobs again, her face red and more tears training down her cheeks. “A monster sh-shouldn’t be around people, because they’ll only hurt them!”

“Do you want to hurt me?”

“N-Never! I don’t wanna hurt anybody! B-But the adults and the other kids say that I shouldn’t be around them because I’m weird and evil and—”

“Well those people are _stupid_ , okay?”

Her lower lip quivers, her grip tightening on her stone. “Kamui,” he starts, “why do you have those cuts?”

“It’s not nice to tell on people,” she hiccups.

“But it’s okay if you’re being hurt because that’s not nice either. Why do you have those cuts?”

“Rocks,” she says cautiously. “O-Other kids threw rocks at me again, but it’s okay—um, it happens every time I go outside, but I’m getting better at running away so they don’t hurt me.” She tries again to tug her hand away from his grasp. “I need to go inside because I don’t wanna get in trouble. I don’t like it when people yell at me….”

“Kamui,” he lets her go; a little girl crying because of him makes him feel bad, “do you like being out here all by yourself?”

She looks down at her stone, clutching it with both hands. “I don’t wanna get in trouble,” she replies for the thousandth time.

“I know, but do you like that you have to keep playing by yourself?”

The girl’s lower lip quivers again, and her crying starts once more. “N-No! I miss playing with Takumi and Kaze and you and—but I’m dangerous! That’s what the other kids say and they tease me because I eat bugs if I’m hungry and I have triangle ears,” her stone falls from her hands onto the ground as she presses her tiny fists into her eyes, “and they’re always calling me names and the adults give me the look like if they smell something gross!”

Sobbing, she crouches and curls herself into a ball, making herself as small as possible. “I’m sorry,” she squeaks out. “I want to be a normal person who isn’t an ugly monster! Everyone is scared of me b-but I don’t want to hurt them, I promise. Mama is the only person who talks to me a-and Orochi and Yuugiri but everyone else hates me and that’s why they’re mean. I’m s-sorry.”

Kamui sniffs some snot away, rubbing her nose with her arm. She picks up her stone and dusts it off, putting it back in her pocket. “I’m sorry,” she repeats. “I’m going to go back inside now. Bye.”

The girl drags her feet as she walks away. She comes across his fallen sword and picks it up, hurrying back to him. “This is yours because it smells like you,” is all she says, leaving it in front of him. Then she runs back across the bridge, and disappears behind the bamboo grove.

“Young Master Ryoma!” his training instructor runs up to him, catching his breath. “There you are! I saw you and that thing together from the other side of the pond, so I assumed the worst! I apologize for not getting here sooner! This garden is a lot bigger than I remember.”

“Her name is _Kamui_ ,” he replies angrily. “And she’s not a _thing._ She’s a _little girl!_ ”

“Oh, w-well yes I know she has a name. It’s just, I’m only following the orders I was given from the council not to socialize with her and—”

“Well they’re all stupid!” he shouts. “They’re too old anyway and should be dead already and we need new people on the dumb council!”

“Milord, don’t speak of such—”

Ryoma picks up his training sword, “Are we gonna train or not?” and begins to stomp away toward the training ground.

“I don’t know if you’ll gain anything in your current mood, your highness.”

“Then I’ll train by myself!”

He ignores the instructor’s pleas to wait. Ryoma can’t care less about what adults think anymore.

But it’s hard to concentrate when he’s so angry. His head hurts as he slams his sword against the training dummies, growling shouts as he slashes all along the wooden post. He knows Saizo and Kagero are watching him from somewhere, because he’s grown used to feeling when his ninja retainers are around.

“Are you okay, milord?” comes Kagero’s voice right behind him.

Ryoma sighs and tosses his sword to the ground. “No, I’m mad.”

“I can see that.”

“Maybe you need to take a break,” Saizo offers, appearing from behind another training post. “You’ve been training for two hours without stopping. You must be really mad then.”

“It’s nothing,” he says, taking his sword and sheathing it again. “You guys can’t help me.”

“That’s what we’re here for.” Kagero adjusts her yellow scarf. “We’re gonna be your retainers, and we need all the practice to help you.”

“No, I know you guys can’t—or more like you  _won’t_ help me if I tell you.” He sighs, looking up at the sky and wiping his brow of sweat. “I know that nobody will help me if I tell them, not even Father.”

Up above in the distance, he spots Kamui on her balcony. Like at the bridge, her legs are dangling over the edge, one on either side of a railing support beam. She’s looking away, maybe out to the mountains. He thinks he sees a butterfly on her arm this time, though it’s hard to see clearly, even if he squints.

“Oh,” Saizo says, looking up at her too, “is it about that girl? I, uh… yeah.”

“Milord, you know we’d do anything for you,” tries Kagero. “But I’m not sure if…”

“See, I told you,” he replies bitterly. “You won’t help me.” Ryoma looks to his two friends, giving them both a harsh stare. “But it’s okay; I know you don’t want to get in trouble.”

“You say that,” Saizo twirls a throwing star around his finger, not looking at his liege, “but I also feel like… you’re disappointed.”

“Well we can’t have everything, can we?”

Both the ninja look to him in surprise, and then hang their heads. They give him a polite bow, “We’re going to tell the cooks it’s time for your lunch,” before disappearing with the breeze.

At lunch, he doesn’t talk. He mainly watches his siblings and their friends chatter. (Including the noble children visiting the castle, like Setsuna and some others he doesn’t care about.) Oboro is visiting again too since her parents are getting the clothing measurements for a few servants in the castle. She’s always happily clinging to Takumi, and his little brother seems to enjoy her company with the way he smiles. Hinata is being trained to become Takumi’s future retainer, so he figures that’s why he’s around more often too.

Ryoma knows that royals don’t usually pick their retainers if they’re too young. Takumi shouldn’t even have any in-training until he’s around 10. He wonders if his little brother was given more friends so early to replace Kamui’s company.

“Well kiddos,” Orochi begins, getting up from the table, “gotta go. Yuugiri’s busy with the knights, so it’s my turn to take care of business.”

“But doesn’t she eat bugs?” Hinoka asks. Everyone at this point knows Orochi brings Kamui all her meals if Yuugiri can’t. “That’s what I heard the other kids say. And I saw her outside earlier.”

“She’s still gotta eat normal food.”

A few of the other older kids make comments and begin snickering about the ‘weird lizard girl’, like if she’s some sort of myth up on the seventh floor of the castle’s darkest corner with spider webs. Orochi only brushes them off with an eye roll before excusing herself.

“Hey,” Ryoma gets up, ignoring Takumi pointing out he hasn’t finished his lunch yet, “wait up, Orochi.”

The girl waits for him in the hallway, smiling. “Now what could Milord want with little ol’ me?” She’s kind of annoying to go up against in training, as she’s always laughing when she dodges his attacks. Orochi is older than him by a year at 13, and she likes to tease him by calling him a ‘tyke’ if he fails at winning against her.

But she’s also the only kid around who actually cares about Kamui.

“I wanted to ask if you need any help carrying the lunch upstairs?”

“Oh it’s not heavy!” she giggles. “I can do it myself.”

“Yeah I know,” he scratches the back of his head, “but I still wanna be there. For reasons.”

“Well alright,” she shrugs, “you can come then.”

They go down to the kitchens on the first floor, and then make the tedious trek all the way to the seventh, where Miss Mikoto’s room is. Orochi frowns, stopping just before the door. “She’s not used to seeing anybody but me and Yuugiri,” she whispers. “Just remember that. Please, milord,” she adds seriously, “if you have nothing nice to say, then just tell her hello and leave. She gets enough bullying from other kids.”

“I promise I won’t do anything bad, I swear.”

“Mm, you  _better._ ”

Orochi quietly opens the door. Kamui is still on the balcony, except now she’s taking a nap underneath the sun’s beam. The butterfly is still there, resting on the railing. “She’s probably tired,” Orochi mentions, setting the tray of lunch on a small round table. “I usually wait in her room now if she’s asleep. One time I caught a dumb kid sneaking up here to eat her stuff because they know this is where she is.”

“What? They really do that?”

“It’s a dare,” she sighs heavily, shaking her head. Orochi plops down on a pillow near the bed. “They call it the ‘Dragon’s Lair’ and they only play it at lunch time. They’re either tired by dinner or not awake yet at breakfast. Whichever kid can snag the most food before she wakes up ‘wins’ by eating it. They only do it when they know Miss Mikoto won’t be around either.”

“That’s—,” he curls his fists, gritting his teeth, “—did you tell somebody?”

“Yuugiri. It stopped ‘cause she told them the more food they eat from this room, the more the castle ghost is gonna haunt them and suck their brains out through their ears because the ghost likes human food. No human food? Then it’s gotta eat brains of the thieves who took the ghost’s meal. One of the kids even cried and peed himself, I heard.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “Good ol’ Yuu.”

“Kamui is being locked up so everyone is ‘safe’,” he starts, walking to the corner of her room littered with drawings. “But if you ask me, it’s doing nothing to keep _her_ safe from anybody. This is all she does every day, huh?”

Ryoma crouches down next to the pile of paintings. There’s ink splatters over the floor, and the paint brush is lazily poking out from underneath a fresh drawing. He turns it over, straightening it out. He thinks it’s a drawing of some creature-person. There’s horns on their head and big fangs hanging out of their mouth. Where the eyes are supposed to be, they have huge ink blots instead, bleeding through the paper. Around it are black scribbles that don’t look like anything. Across the top of the page, the word ‘monster’ is written. In the bottom corner the word ‘evil’ is there too.

He looks through the other ink drawings in the stack. At the bottom, there’s a lot of pictures of butterflies and frogs, with some mountains. There’s one of Kamui and Miss Mikoto holding hands and smiling. A big heart is above them, and ‘Mama and Me’ is written on the top. But as he goes higher in the stack, he finds that there aren’t any pictures of animals or the environment, or even Miss Mikoto.

All of them are just drawings of the same creature, almost always frowning or crying. One picture has fire drawn all around it, and the other has the creature under the water, with figures on a shoreline. A third drawing has the creature at the edge of the painting with people throwing little round blots at it, which he assumes are rocks. Ryoma goes through the others around Kamui’s work space, and they’re all the same. Some creature frowning or crying with something bad happening to it. The words ‘monster’, ‘evil’, or ‘ugly’ are always there too.

“Yeah,” Orochi starts quietly, sitting next to him, “this is all she draws now. I even have to ask her to draw me something happy, like a bird or a deer. Or even a smiley face. Because she won’t draw those things anymore on her own.”

“This creature is her, right?”

“What she thinks she is, yeah I’m sure.” Orochi puts the stack back together. “I only give her black ink to use because I’m afraid of what I’ll see in red or any other color.” She looks to the balcony, staring at Kamui’s back as she sleeps. “It sucks. She’s a nice kid, and just wants to play with her friends. Though I guess she doesn’t have any anymore, huh? And cute little Lord Takumi liked to play with her every day too.”

“You’re her friend.”

“Heck yeah I am. But I’m talking about kids her age, ‘cause honestly I’m more like her babysitter.”

Ryoma stares at his ink-stained hands, rubbing his fingers together. “If my mother was still alive, nobody would be treating Kamui like this. She was the queen, and she’d make them stop.”

“I miss her too….”

He figures it’s best the girl doesn’t see him when she wakes up, so he leaves Orochi alone in the room. A servant tells him to wash his hands when she spots him in the hallway before escorting him back to the dining floor. “You don’t want to run into that little strange child that’s always wandering around by herself,” she says. “It could be dangerous.”

_Bite your tongue. That’s what Mother would say. But it’s hard, and people here are so stupid and old and they suck._

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


For the rest of the day, he goes about his usual schedule. After a break at noon, he resumes his studies with Yukimura and the other tutors. His father has him sit in council meetings so he can practice learning to ‘negotiate’ in made-up scenarios with the other old men and women around. Sometimes it’s frustrating when he gives a wrong answer, but he guesses it’s better so he doesn’t get people killed for real when he’s an adult.

At dinner time, he eats with his family like usual. But he hurries to finish his food, giving the excuse he wants to study some more in his room. His father believes him, and dismisses him from the table.

Except he passes by the royal wing, and instead goes up to the seventh floor where he knows Kamui will be. He hides behind colorful pillars and potted plants, not wanting any servants or guards to catch him where he isn’t supposed to be. When nobody’s around, he hurries over to her room, knocking on the frame, “Hi Kamui, I’m gonna come in, okay?” and quickly enters, shutting the door closed.

Kamui is huddled in a corner, watching him. “Am I in trouble?” she asks. “I didn’t go outside anymore or bother anybody after I saw you. I promise.”

“No, you’re not in trouble.” He smiles, crouching in front of her. “But you like being outside, right?” Kamui nods. “I like being outside too. Have you ever gone outside at night?”

She shakes her head. “Mama never lets me out when it’s dark, because she said monsters and bad men might try to hurt me.”

“What if you went outside with me? There’s something cool I wanna show you. I’ll protect you,” he pats his practice sword strapped to his sash, “I promise.”

“Really?” She blinks at him. “You won’t get in trouble?”

“I’m the prince. Nobody can get me in trouble.” He stands up, and holds his hand out to her. Kamui hesitantly takes it, and he helps her to her feet. “But we have to be quiet, okay?” She nods, and they make their way down a secret pathway to the garden.

Only the kids know the secret passageway, because adults are too big to get in. Kamui doesn’t seem to mind though. Instead she comments that it’s like an adventure, and her voice doesn’t sound as sad anymore.

When they get outside, they still have to be quiet because of all the guards around. Ryoma keeps her hand tightly in his as they sneak past everyone that might rat them out. Finally, they get to the bridge Kamui was at in the morning, and stop.

All along the pond are fireflies, hovering over the surface of the water. The stars from above glitter along the smooth dark surface of the water, making the fireflies look like moving stars themselves. Kamui gasps, and a smile slowly stretches onto her face.

“It’s so pretty!” she exclaims, giggling. “What are those, fairies?”

“No,” he can’t help but smile, “they’re called fireflies. They’re bugs.”

“Can I catch them?”

“If you’re fast enough, then maybe.”

Kamui laughs again and runs down to the pond. Her bare feet splash in the water as she reaches out to catch the little balls of light. She misses at first. Randomly she smacks her hands in the air, trying to clutch one in her fist. She sneaks up on a firefly closer to the water’s surface, holding her hands out like a pincer. The girl closes her hands together over the bug, keeping it trapped in her cupped hands.

“I got one!” She runs to Ryoma, still grinning. “You can see the light coming out of my fingers!”

“Good job, Kamui. Can I see?”

“Oh, yeah! Let’s look together!” She carefully makes a small opening of her fingers, peeking inside with one eye closed. “It’s so cool that bugs can make light.” She holds out her hand for Ryoma’s turn. “Isn’t it pretty?”

“It’s very pretty.”

Kamui giggles. “Yeah, but I think I should let it go now. It might be scared.” She opens up her hands and the bug flies away to join the others along the pond. “Do you think if I ask Orochi, she’ll bring me some color ink so I can draw the bugs tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure. The bugs only come out at night though.”

“That’s okay; I know what they look like now!” She gazes up at him, her eyes as bright as the fireflies. “Thank you for showing me the bugs, Lord Ryoma.”

“Please, Kamui,” he frowns, and sighs, “just call me ‘Ryoma’ like you used to, okay? It feels weird when you call me ‘lord’ because you never used to do that before.”

“Oh,” she draws a circle in the sand with her toe, “but I won’t get in trouble?”

“No because I’ll punch anybody in the face if they’re mean to you again.”

“Hitting isn’t nice.”

Ryoma takes one of her small hands, and holds it in his. “No it’s not, but people calling you names and throwing things at you isn’t nice either. You can get hurt really bad. I know you’re scared you might get mad again and turn into a dragon, but it’s not right they’re treating you like that either.”

She doesn’t respond for a while, instead staring out at the fireflies. “When you saw my dragon, were you scared?”

Lying to her wouldn’t do anything good. Maybe if he tells the truth, and she sees that not everyone will stay scared, then she’ll smile more. “Um, I was a little scared when I first saw it, but only because I haven’t seen a dragon, ever.”

“Never ever?”

“Never ever.” He smiles, patting her hand. “So after I stopped being scared, I thought, ‘wow it’s so cool Kamui can turn into an actual dragon!’ because nobody else can do that. I wish _I_ could do that.”

“But my dragon is super ugly because I’m ugly too. It doesn’t look like the pretty Dawn Dragon I see in pictures….”

“Your dragon is cool,” he reassures, “and ‘unique’.”

Kamui tilts her head to the side. “What’s ‘unique’?”

“It means ‘special’, and that’s what you are.” He bops her nose with his finger. “You’re special Kamui, just like your mama keeps saying. All those people who’re mean to you are just jealous and stupid, okay?”

“O-Okay. You promise you’re not scared of my dragon anymore?”

“I promise.”

The girl’s smile is as bright as a star, and she throws her arms around Ryoma’s waist. “Thank you,” she says, pressing her cheek to his chest, “for being nice to me, Ryoma. And being my friend.”

He hums, smiling back and patting her head. “Always, Kamui. You wanna go back inside now? I can take some peaches from the kitchen and we can eat them outside.”

“Yay!” She grabs his hand and pulls him back to the castle. “Let’s go! I want a peach and I haven’t ate one in a long time!”

Ryoma laughs, “Hold on! You’re too strong and fast for me!”, and follows her pace through the garden, memorizing her giggles and the padding of her footsteps on the ground.

_I’ll protect you Kamui when Miss Mikoto isn’t here. That’s what Mother would want, and that’s what a good king is supposed to do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ryoma is a good boy.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	23. XXIII

Sadly, her fear comes to pass the next morning.

Mikoto is invited to stay for Yukiko’s funeral. It’s not held immediately after like Ikona’s was. “Even in death, Lady Yukiko would want attention from everyone she had ever known,” one servant tells her. However, they still don’t want to delay her ceremony by waiting for Nohrian nobles to get the letter and then make preparations to attend.

Instead, they send a notice to all nearby Hoshidan nobles, including Sumeragi. Mikoto figures she might as well wait for his arrival and then make the trip back home with his convoy. She’s not allowed in the castle when she asks for entry. Izana isn’t around either to vouch for her, as he’s most likely spending his time grieving and already making decisions he’s not ready for.

And so, she spends her day in Izumo idly browsing the marketplace and spending a lot of time in her room at the inn. It takes two days for a messenger to reach Shirasagi, another two for confirmation the king is coming, and a final three until he arrives. The same can be said more or less for the other nearby nobles of the land.

Mikoto waits for him at the entrance of Izumo’s small castle. His convoy stops at the gate, just before the bridge over the small stream in the courtyard. Sumeragi spots her, and picks up his pace. “Miss Mikoto, you’re here?” he asks. “I thought you’d still be in your village.”

“Well, I was already making my way back from the village a few days ago when I found out this happened. I couldn’t just leave without trying to help. Sadly, nobody would let me.”

She explains to him a semi-fabricated tale of her stay in Izumo. Some of the Izumite guards question why she’s accompanying him, but hold their tongue when Sumeragi designates her as his ‘guest’.

“It must’ve been a horrible thing to come back to,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need for that. In fact, I’m not at all surprised this has happened. Worried, but not surprised. Lately, it seems like nobility are dropping like flies. There’s perhaps Nohrian nobles who have also passed, and we might not even know it.”

He hums, shaking his head. “Well, let’s hope that’s not the case. There’d be needless widespread panic if nobles thought some group of assassins is coming after them indiscriminately.”

Mikoto doesn’t get much more of a chance to talk with him, as he’s then escorted to his guest quarters. She decides to head back to the inn, leaving a message with Saizo in case Sumeragi asks for her. Along the way to the gate, somebody tugs on her sleeve.

Izana is standing there, his eyes red and puffy. “So, um,” he starts, reaching into an inner pocket of his robes, “before she died, my mother wrote this. Said to give it to you and I’m not supposed to snoop. Normally I do, but, well…,” the boy places a letter in her hand, “yeah. Not up for much mischief right now.”

“Oh, thank you.” She quickly puts the letter away in the folds of her clothes. “I’m so sorry, Lord Izana. I really did pray as much as I could that she’d be spared.”

He shrugs. “Thanks. But it’s like I said to you last time.” Crossing his arms, he presses them tight against his chest. “It’s whatever the gods want, and I guess this time it was her life. Doesn’t matter how much you plead to them; it can’t be changed once they’ve set their mind to something.”

She wants to offer an embrace, or some comforting words, but what can she say? That it was a dragon god who purposely came after Yukiko? That there’s a possibility things might get worse? That his actual target is her and the last surviving members of the Vallite royal family? That everyone else is just collateral damage?

Mikoto can’t exactly end her own life to spare others the pain. If she dies, nobody will protect Kamui. Nobody has the knowledge of the truth like she does. Arete is too far away and busy preparing Azura for her own fateful role at that.

_I’m so sorry, Izana. More people will suffer because of us, but there’s no other way…._

Other nobles arrive at the castle then, and begin crowding around Izana. Mikoto is pushed (even shoved) out of the way, and she takes that as her cue to leave. At the inn, things are solemn just like the rest of the community. It gives Mikoto a chance to read the letter from Yukiko in peace:   
  


> _Hey, ‘Koto._
> 
> _You know, the thing that sucks about having all these divine visions and stuff, is that you see your own death too. After the gods contacted me, I saw myself bleeding out on a bed. My son’s face—as he is now—was crying over me. I couldn’t see anything past that point. But I also saw you, and Queen Arete for whatever reason. You were both younger, and in a strange place with these odd flowers and a bunch of waterfalls. There was roaring, like a giant beast was near. You both looked prepared for battle. For whatever reason, I feel like I’ve seen that place before._
> 
> _But the gods also showed me a future before that vision. One where my son is an adult; I’d say his late twenties if I had to guess. There’s other people there: one girl looks a lot like Arete, and another, strangely a lot like you. There’s others too, who I’m assuming are the children of the royal families, considering their garbs. All grown up, or at least a lot of them. There were several of other people too from their armies, all battered and exhausted._
> 
> _Thing is, they weren’t fighting against each other or humans. I think. I heard that roar again, and some colossal beast is there, but I couldn’t see what it was. A part of it looked like a dragon, but I can’t_   _be sure. It’s a massive shadow, looming over everyone. A shadow so big, it loomed over both Nohr and Hoshido—the entire map. There were screams from people, things burning down—hell it looked like the end of the world._
> 
> _And the weirdest thing, is that I saw a man standing there unaffected by everything, walking toward my vision-self. Nobody else noticed him, not even that shadow. I couldn’t see his face as he was wearing a hooded cloak. But his long hair was blue, tinged with red. And all he said to me was, “The world will end, if those two aren’t helped.” He looked at those girls, the ones that look like Arete and you._
> 
> _I don’t know what it all means, but that vision knocked me on my ass. I don’t want a future where my son has to see the world burn. But I have a feeling it has to do with you. Made me realize, I don’t actually_ know _you, do I? Or your daughter. Whatever it meant, you had a lot to do with it. What I took from that vision is that everyone will be in mortal peril sometime in the near future. And if they don’t work together, our world will become a pile of ashes. So, if you ever need help, Mikoto, then know you have an ally in Izumo. I’ll take care of the rest—or, Izana will, since I probably won’t be there anymore._
> 
> _Nice knowing you, my friend._

  
She sets the letter down and places a hand over her mouth. Tears blind her sight, and sobs try to force their way out of her mouth. Mikoto shakes her head, closing her eyes. Janus came to Yukiko in her vision, pleading for help, and maybe even tried to show her the truth. What if that’s how Anankos found out? What if Janus is still alive, but can’t be anywhere near Mikoto or Kamui because then the mad god will know where they are too?

“I need to tell Arete,” she sobs, wiping at her eyes. Mikoto grabs the opal, but her hands tremble, and tears patter onto the smooth surface of the stone. She lays on the bed and allows herself to weep until her eyes are dry. When she’s certain she’s calmed herself, Mikoto reaches for the gem and contacts Arete. She wipes her hand over it, saying the incantation to connect.

“Are you free?” she asks quietly. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

No response for at least two dead minutes. Then there’s the sound of a drawer opening and closing, before, “Yes, I’m here. Sorry, that snake was bothering me with some garbage about another noble I don’t care for. What’s wrong, Sister?”

“Everything.”

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


“Milord,” Saizo begins, “are you sure this is okay?”

Ryoma sighs, and gives his retainer a look. “Nothing’s gonna happen if she just watches me train.”

“You got scolded the other day though,” Kagero reminds. “From the council.”

“Well I don’t care what they say, alright?”

Ever since they went to go see the fireflies, the adults around Ryoma have been more and more annoying. Always telling him to watch out for Kamui, that his kindness might be his downfall, that she shouldn’t be anywhere near the royal family. Fragile concerns mask the joyful negative comments they like to give to her. A little girl.

It makes him angry hearing it every day he includes her in his routine. But seeing her smile and giggle is worth it. Little kids shouldn’t be bullied by anyone, especially adults. It helps that Takumi is playing with her again. He’s not as polite when adults tell him to be careful. He either sticks his tongue out at them or calls them stupid because, “Kamui is nice and she’s my friend and I like eating peaches with her.” Ryoma insists nothing bad is going to happen so long as he’s around. That’s not always true, but it’s the best excuse he can give to people.

Right now he can keep an eye on them, since they’re sitting on the terrace watching him in his sword practice. Kaze is also there on standby in case something should happen. He’s a lot more approachable to Kamui than Saizo is.

“Your father won’t get mad?” Ryoma had asked him when Kaze had offered earlier to watch over her.

“Maybe,” the ninja had replied. “But I don’t really care, milord. I was… scared at first, but I understand it as some person just trying to bug an animal and then complaining when the animal retaliates because it or others it cares about were threatened.”

“She’s not an animal, though.”

“No, no of course I know.” He hid his mouth behind his purple scarf. “I was just trying to explain how I understood it. And Kamui seems so sad because she’s by herself all the time. Children need to play with others. That’s what my mother told me when Father insisted we started training earlier in the year.”

“But she’s not wrong.”

Kaze hummed. “Rarely is she ever wrong.”

It helps a lot that he’s not the only one looking after her now.

Today his father is supposed to come back home, along with Older Saizo. They needed to make another trip, to Izumo this time because the archduchess died. Ryoma knows other nobles and the council will tell Sumeragi that his son has been ‘defiant’ because he includes Kamui in the things that he does. But his father has to understand she’s only 7, right?

His father is a good person. He is.

After his training with Saizo and Kagero is over, he and the other children are called to lunch by one of the servants. Takumi takes Kamui’s hand and begins to tug her along, but the servant stops them. Something about, “She’s not a noble; I’m sorry, young prince,” and pulls their hands apart. Takumi stomps his foot on the floor, “No, but I wanna!” and tries to pull Kamui toward him again.

“Young prince, I have orders,” the man says reluctantly. He tries to pull Takumi away, but he wiggles and kicks and shrieks, beginning his tantrums.

“No no no no NO!”

Kamui is hiding in a corner now, just staring. She’s clutching her pouch again, probably already used to being treated like this that she doesn’t say anything. Kaze looks uncomfortable, trying to find somewhere to hide his hands. Saizo and Kagero say nothing. Instead they help clean the training grounds for the next session.

Ryoma walks up to the man and says, “She can eat with us today.”

“Lord Ryoma, I know you’re trying to be nice to the girl, but I have orders.”

“Those orders are stupid.” He sits down at the edge of the terrace. “If she can’t eat with us, then I’m not gonna eat either.” Crossing his arms, he adds, “I’m the prince, and if I don’t wanna eat, then I won’t.”

“Please, milord….”

But he stays put, frowning. He stares out at the pond in the distance, waiting for the servant to say something. The man sighs, and sets Takumi down. He hurries over to Ryoma and sits next to him, sticking his tongue out at the servant. He walks away, only to return with Yukimura moments later.

“Is there a problem, young lord?” he asks Ryoma.

“Yeah. I’m not gonna eat unless Kamui can sit with us too.”

“Not eating either!” Takumi shouts, clinging to his brother’s arm.

“This is a bad influence on him, my prince.” Yukimura rubs his forehead with his fingers. “What will your father say?”

“Father will understand. But I’m serious. I’m not gonna eat unless Kamui can join us. I’m tired of people treating her like a _thing._ ” He looks up, glaring. “Why does everybody like picking on a 7-year-old girl? Are people that bored around here?”

Yukimura clears his throat and mumbles something, looking almost embarrassed. He glances over to Kamui, still huddled in a corner. But Kaze is there trying to convince her nobody is going to bully her or throw things. He’s smiling, holding out his hands. She stares at them, and then slowly reaches out for his right one. Kaze brings her over, yet she still tries to hide behind him.

Sighing, Yukimura says, “You have a point, milord. I apologize if anyone has made you upset.”

“So she can eat with us?” Ryoma asks, standing up. Takumi follows his lead, then walks over to the girl. “All the time now?”

“Well, I don’t know about all the time. But for today, she can. I’ll bring it up with your father when he gets back. Is that good enough?”

Grinning, Ryoma nods. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Kamui eats with them in the dining room for the noble kids. There aren’t any nobles visiting because they all went to Izumo for the funeral. But he likes it that it’s just his family and his retainers. Normally they’re not supposed to eat with him either, but his father said it’s okay. For now.

“He’s going to get mad,” Hinoka mumbles, picking at her rice.

“Who?”

“Father, when he comes back.” She glances across the table to Kamui, who’s sitting between Takumi and Kaze. Aside from Ryoma, they’re the only other kids she doesn’t run away from. And Orochi, but she’s busy somewhere right now, probably bothering some boys. “She’s not supposed to be here.”

“I want her to be here,” he says, staring at his sister while he plops a shrimp into his mouth. “And I’m the prince. They have to listen to me.”

“But they’re adults and they make the rules.”

“Their rules are stupid, and _we’re_ the royals, not them.”

Hinoka huffs. “Well I’m the princess, and I don’t want Kamui here.”

“I’m older,” he picks at a piece of pork from the plate they share, “so I still win.”

“You’re mean,” she murmurs, pouting at him. “If Father gets mad, it’s your fault.”

Ryoma shrugs, and throws the pork into his mouth. “I don’t care.” When he’s done chewing, he asks, “Why don’t you ever try to play with Kamui? Takumi naps a lot, more than she does. She’s by herself if he’s not around.”

“Because,” Hinoka picks at a piece of grilled fish, placing it in her bowl, “I’m the princess and I don’t have to if I don’t want to,” she throws back. “And if Takumi dies, then it’s his fault because I tell him to be careful all the time and he never listens.”

“Don’t say that Hinoka,” he whispers angrily. “What’s wrong with you?”

She doesn’t reply. Her eyes are watery, and her lower lip quivers. But she sucks in her sobs, and eats through her tears. She’s thinking about Mother again. And if she were here, she’d say to be nice to Kamui, not treat her like a sickness.

Even though he’s the crown prince, he doesn’t always get what he wants because he’s only 12. Especially when his father is home. But he’s not right now, so Ryoma can practice being in charge and making adult decisions, like keeping Kamui with them during lunch.

Yukimura calls him and Hinoka away for their lessons after the meal is over. Takumi is taken back to his room for a nap by a nanny, and Sakura is still too little to eat with them. Saizo and Kagero excuse themselves. Kamui is the last to leave, hurrying to finish her food. The servants keep staring—glaring at her, like if she’s wasting their time.

“You don’t have to finish it,” one says. “Just leave so we can clean up.”

Kamui stuffs her cheeks until she looks like a squirrel, and hurries out of the room. Before Ryoma follows Yukimura and his sister, Kaze quietly says, “If you want, I can look out for her again. So she’s not by herself?”

“That’s fine.”

With a nod, he hurries after the girl, and Ryoma doesn’t see either of them for the rest of the day.

In the evening, just before dinner, his father returns from Izumo. The castle scrambles to prepare for his arrival, like taking his luggage back to his room or having the table set for him. Miss Mikoto is also back from her trip to the old village where she came from. She gives Ryoma a little smile and a wave before walking away. Probably to go find Kamui.

At dinner, his father looks tired. But he compliments the food, saying that he missed home. Hinoka talks to him the whole time with Takumi pitching in. Ryoma is quiet, however, as he doesn’t know if Yukimura told him about Kamui yet. And while he knows his father is a good person, Ryoma has still been scolded before, and he’s sort of scared he’s going to get scolded once dinner is over.

When the food is gone, and all the dishware is taken, Ryoma tries to sneak out the door.

“I need to speak with you, Son,” his father says. Ryoma winces and freezes, then turns around back into the room. Hinoka whispers, “See I told you,” and takes Takumi out by the hand who’s talking about wanting more dessert.

Ryoma sits across from his father, and stares down at his lap.

“You were really quiet tonight,” Sumeragi starts. “Nothing interesting happened while I was gone?”

“No.”

There’s a pause first, then a sigh. “Alright, I guess I’ll start. Ryoma, you can’t go around calling adults stupid and the council ‘dusty dragon bones’ whenever you don’t agree with them. That is not how a prince—especially a _crown_ prince, should behave.”

“But Father,” he looks up at the man, “everyone was being mean to Kamui! She draws pictures of herself now like a demon with fire and people throwing things! Sometimes she’s _on_ fire in the pictures and the words ‘monster’, ‘evil’, and ‘ugly’ are always on there too! And that’s _all_ she draws! She cries a lot in dark corners! The other kids steal her lunch because they think it’s a game! Kamui runs away from everyone, covering her head even when nobody is throwing things! She has a lot of scratches and sometimes bruises!”

Ryoma clenches his fists on his lap. “If I’m supposed to be a good king in the future, that means I need to follow all the rules?” He shakes his head. “Those rules are stupid! She didn’t do anything! Somebody’s gonna kill her one day if nobody stops them! I know because the little kids joke about ‘hunting dragons’ and she always cries! I hate it! Little kids shouldn’t be picked on by anyone, and the adults do it too!”

He stands up, now at his father’s height. “The only kids nice to her are Orochi, Takumi, and Kaze! And me! Everyone else is scared or bullies her! I don’t wanna be king if I have to follow rules like that! _That’s_ why the council is stupid! They’re all too old and ready to die anyway so you should replace them!”

His heart is pounding so loud, he can almost hear it. Sumeragi is staring at him with a frown. His arms are crossed in that way he does when he’s upset with Ryoma or any of his siblings. Ryoma swallows, and his fingers rub against his sweaty palms. His parents had never hit him whenever he wasn’t behaving, but he still worries about how he’s going to be punished.

_This is for Kamui. It’s not fair that she cries every day and draws pictures of herself on fire. A king can’t be scared._

“You really believe that?” Sumeragi finally says. “That you don’t have to follow all the rules?”

“If… If it makes Kamui cry, no. No I don’t wanna be a king if those’re the kinda rules I have to follow, the ones where people get hurt like that. It’s not right.”

Sumeragi stands, towering over his son. Ryoma braces his feet on the floor, prepared for whatever his father is going to say or do. He swallows again, and wipes his sweaty palms on his pants.

But his father doesn’t yell or scold him. Instead, he smiles a little bit, and hums. “I always feared I was never doing a good enough job raising you for your birthright. Now, I think I’m doing just fine getting you there.”

Sumeragi ruffles his hair. Ryoma blinks up at him. “Wh-What?”

“A king does need to make and follow rules. But sometimes, those rules are no longer necessary, or were bad to begin with, though you might’ve thought they were okay when you first made them. I’ll speak to the council about Kamui’s situation. Making little girls cry isn’t how I want this household to be remembered.”

Ryoma stands there, staring. “Um, so… you’re not mad?”

“I was disappointed that you were behaving so childishly. But I haven’t been much of an adult myself, or the others. You made me realize that.” Sumeragi pats his shoulder. “I’ll fix this tomorrow. For now, let’s both get some rest.”

He goes to his room after that, still not believing it worked. Rarely does he like to stand up to his father because his father is a good person and will listen to other people. But he supposes even good people make mistakes.

All he can do now is hope the dusty dragon bones are as nice to little girls too.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Once Mikoto had finished telling Arete about Yukiko’s dream, Arete in turn tells her about the adjustment to Ikona’s proposal. Instead of a Hoshidan royal going, why not somebody ‘low-risk’ like Kamui? It’d get her and Azura better acquainted, and maybe then they’ll have more progress in their plan than they did before.

“Yes, that sounds fine. They don’t want her in the castle anyway,” Mikoto reasoned bitterly that night. “And I’d much rather prefer she be around somebody who will actually treat her kindly.”

“I thought so. I’ve already brought it up with Sumeragi a few weeks ago. He was going to give me an answer the following day, but ended up telling me the council is still debating.”

Mikoto gritted her teeth. “If it were up to them, they’d have Kamui in a cage. Or back in that underground room where she’ll never come out.”

Her sister was silent on the other end for a moment. “I really am sorry she’s being treated like this.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. It’s my fault she’s in this world.”

The topic wasn’t brought up again, and Mikoto knows better than to speak of anything to Sumeragi on the return trip to Shirasagi. When they finally get to the castle, Mikoto makes her way back to her room. Along the way, Orochi comes bounding up to her and welcomes her back with a smile and a laugh.

“How has Kamui been?” Mikoto asks as they walk in the hallways. The moonlight filters through the paper panels on the outermost wall.

“Eh,” Orochi fiddles with her bracelet, “she’s been… okay.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She bites her lip, and then reluctantly begins to explain Kamui’s daily schedule since Mikoto has been gone. Or, more accurately, other people’s schedules that consist of constantly bullying her daughter and making her feel generally unwelcome anywhere among people. Orochi tells her about paintings Kamui draws of herself as a demon and all the other vile things she sees herself as. How she cries a lot more often, begins to curl up whenever anybody is near—to make herself take up as little space as possible, that other children make a game of stealing her lunch, and runs away from everyone, covering her head because she’s always scared somebody is going to throw something at her.

“And nobody is  _doing_ anything?” Mikoto asks sharply.

“I stay with her during lunch so nobody can steal her food. And Yuugiri scared those kids with a ghost story. But, uh, no. Everyone except us doesn’t care where Kamui is or what happens to her, so long as she’s not in their sight. Prince Ryoma has been trying to be kinda like her bodyguard when he can, though I don’t know if it's helped much….”

Mikoto shakes her head. She’s too clouded by seething frustration that she can’t offer any sort of reply. Orochi doesn’t say anything else either, just follows her silently to the room. When they get there, Kamui is sleeping on the bed. In her grasp is the wooden rabbit Kaze had given to her as a birthday gift.

“Look.” Orochi goes to Kamui’s drawing corner and picks up a few of her pictures. She hands them silently to Mikoto, frowning. Like she had said, all the illustrations are of some badly drawn demon-like creature suffering some sort of punishment from people. The words ‘monster’, ‘evil’, or ‘ugly’ are always written somewhere.

“No child should be treated like this,” Mikoto says, handing her back the drawings. “I can’t do this anymore— _she_ can’t do this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t continue to stay here. I need to get out of this place, both Kamui and myself. I won’t tolerate my daughter being treated like an abomination. She hasn’t done anything on purpose. My girl is  _miserable_ here, and I won’t subject her to any more of that.”

Orochi flicks the corners of the papers with her index and middle fingers. “The only kids nice to her—aside from me, obviously—are Ryoma, Kaze, and Takumi. So, there’s that at least?”

“Three children won’t help her. Two are princes and one is a ninja in training. The older they get, the less they’ll have time for her because of the roles they’ll be preparing for. Especially as adults. And you’re going to be quite busy too, so she won’t have anyone. No, no I can’t take this any longer.”

Mikoto goes to her dresser and pulls out a sack, tossing it on the floor. “I liked my village. It was quiet and peaceful, and everyone there thought she was odd but they came to adore her. Or maybe it’s because they’re simple farmers that they’re more accepting of the ‘lesser’ citizens. A compliment I can’t extend to the majority of people in this castle.”

She begins to sort through her things, neatly folding clothes and wrapping up her jars of herbs. Orochi stands by idly, trying to say something but never actually finishing a thought. Mikoto knows the girl doesn’t want her to leave, and she enjoys her company too. But she needs to do what’s best for Kamui, and not fail her a second time.

Eventually, Orochi bids her good night and a final sorrowful good bye before leaving the room. By the time most of the castle is asleep, Mikoto is done packing her things and what little Kamui has. She stays up to write a resignation letter, as well as one for a farewell. She doesn’t think Sumeragi will have people chasing after her or Kamui, or at least she doesn’t see why. They’ll be glad to get rid of her.

In the morning, Kamui greets her happily with a hearty, “Mama! You’re back!” She has such an adorable giggle and an even more endearing smile. Such precious things shouldn’t be stunted because people are shallow and petty.

When they’re done with breakfast, and have washed up for the day, Mikoto takes their small bundle of belongings. Nobody bothers to greet them, probably thinking they’re going to do laundry outside. Except Mikoto has been in and out of the castle enough times to know a good route past the guards of the gate.

“Mama,” Kamui asks as they carefully climb down the rocks at the backend of the castle, “where are we going?”

“Somewhere better than here,” she replies. “Somewhere you can make friends.”

“But I have friends. I have Takumi, and Kaze, and Ryoma and Orochi!”

“Yes, I know sweetie. And they all like being your friends too. But other people are mean to you and call you names and throw things, right? You don’t like it, do you?”

“No…,” she mumbles. “I hate it when they call me mean names the most.”

“Well, we’re going to go somewhere where that won’t happen.” She helps Kamui down from a boulder once they reach the bottom of the hill from the castle. “Think of it like an adventure. Okay?”

Her daughter only nods, and takes her hand. “Bye bye castle,” she waves at it and the organic pedestal it rests on. “We’re going on an adventure.” It’s somewhat faded in the distance by the morning mist, just like the fondness of its beautiful gardens and elaborate interior fade from her favor. Mikoto doesn’t plan on ever coming back, even though it might possibly be the safest place in all of Hoshido.

_But I’ll think of something. Anything to help Kamui._

She buys a snack for her child in the marketplace, and then makes her way to the main gate of the city. A trader and his family are heading out, and she asks if she can come along, promising to pay a fee. He agrees, telling her she and Kamui can hop in the back of the caravan. The guards at the gate don’t see her because of the hood from the cart, and let the trader go about his way. At the first town they come to, she and Kamui disembark.

“Thank you for taking us,” she says to the man, paying him as promised. “I’ll try to find a horse here to continue my journey.”

“No problem. Take care of yourself, traveler.” His family waves good bye at them, before heading down the road to their next destination.

Mikoto pays for an inn at the quiet town. There are people going about their midday business, but otherwise they don’t look her way or react in any odd manner toward Kamui. Her daughter grins wide, pointing at all the things she’s never seen or smelled before. They browse a lot of the restaurants before deciding to eat at a small corner shop next to a pond. Kamui doesn’t say much as she gulfs down all her food, and it’s the happiest she’s looked in a long time.

Later she’ll have to explain to Arete why she left, and thus why the adjusted peace proposal won’t work. Her daughter comes first before anything, or any _one_ else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikoto can only take so much bullshit before she's had enough.
> 
> I think this might be the last chapter Ryoma has a POV, though I don't quite remember. But he will get POVs again in part 2 and 3, rest assured.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	24. XXIV

Mikoto doesn’t spend too long in any one location. After about a week, she and Kamui are beyond the Izumo border and in her old village. But even there, she only spends a day. In the last town, she overheard gossip about the king trying to find some servant that ran away and held castle ‘secrets’.

There are no secrets to keep. The only thing would be that the nobles are petty and enjoy tormenting 7-year-old girls.

“You sure you can’t spend just a little more time visiting?” Kiyo asks, putting together a sack of food for Mikoto’s trip.

“No, unfortunately. King Sumeragi knows where this place is, and no doubt his search party is only a day away from here.”

“What do we say if anybody asks?”

“Tell them I’ve gone overseas. He can’t possibly fund a search team until they find me from that distance.”

Daichi grunts, chewing on a piece of dried pork. Mozu is sitting in his lap, eating an orange slice. “Dunno why your kid is so damn important to them. Especially if they were treating her like shit.”

“Because they think she’s a threat to society,” Kiyo pipes in. She scowls as she closes the sack of food, but smiles when she glances at Kamui. The girl is stuffing her face with lunch so she won’t be too hungry on the trip to the next town. “How can this cute little button ever hurt a fly?”

“Kamui just wants friends,” Mikoto says sadly. “Very few actually want to bother with that.”

“Well she can visit us any time, and our precious Mozu will gladly play with her.” Kiyo kisses her daughter’s head who giggles, leaning back against her father’s chest. “Here you go, ‘Koto. Better get a move on then.”

Mikoto smiles and takes the sack. “Thank you. I can’t even begin to—there’s just so much you have done for me, Kiyo. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“Just come visit sometime, that’s all.”

Daichi rises to stand and carries Mozu with one arm. An easy feat, considering how burly he is. From his pocket, he takes out a sheathed knife. “Here,” he tosses it and Mikoto barely catches it before it falls out of the sheath, “take this. Good for defending yourself, but also for gutting an animal in case you need to hunt.”

“Th-Thank you.” She fastens the strap around the sheath so the knife doesn’t risk falling out, in case Kamui should get a hold of it. “I’ll buy a bow and—”

“Nah why’re you gonna spend money?” Kiyo disappears into the other room and returns with her bow and a quiver full of arrows. Before Mikoto can even politely decline such a gift, the woman adds, “We can just make another one, so I don’t wanna hear any excuses about why you can’t accept this! It’ll come in handy. Promise.”

“Oh,” she blinks back tears, “thank you both. I… someday, I promise I’ll repay you. And not with just a visit.”

“Eh,” Daichi shoos his hand at her, “don’t worry about it. Just get going. Not a good idea to be out traveling at night.”

They help her saddle up the horse with all their belongings. Other villagers come to see her off, and even bring gifts. Itsuki’s wife hands Kamui a handmade doll, one similar to their daughter’s own. Kamui hugs it against her chest, “Thank you!” before giving the woman a tight hug herself. She laughs, petting her head.

“You’re welcome, sweetie.”

Mikoto sits Kamui on the horse first before hopping on herself. Itsuki makes sure everything is strapped on tight, “Good bye, ‘Koto, and good luck!” then pokes Kamui in the nose who giggles again. “You too, little tyke!”

“Okay!”

She waves enthusiastic goodbyes as Mikoto steers the horse away from the village. Kamui only stops waving when they’re too far down the road to even see the hill anymore.

Before leaving Izumo, Mikoto had contacted Arete and told her about the situation. Like she had suspected, Arete scolded her, “You can’t keep acting like a child when you have one to look after yourself!” and only stopped when Mikoto explained she was—that she wasn’t going to raise her daughter in a household that will harass her until the day she dies.

Arete softened up after that, as it pained her to think her niece would grow up jaded and bitter about the world because of bad childhood memories. “I’m going on my next run to study Dragon Veins,” she had said that day. “If you can make it to Notre Sagesse before the end of the month, then I’ll meet you there.”

That’s the true reason why Mikoto doesn’t like to stay in one place for more than a day or two. She rides fast on her horse so as not to lose daylight, and to avoid any ninja roaming about when the moon is high in the sky. Kamui doesn’t comment much on their travels unless they stop somewhere. She likes telling Mikoto stories she makes up to pass the time. At a few intervals, they pass other travelers and ask for directions to the nearest town in route to the ports. Sometimes she trades or buys things from them, like a blanket or a large durable cloth to create a makeshift tent in case they can’t stop at a town.

By the end of the next week, they finally make it to the ports. Kamui laughs as she points at the water, sniffing the air. “It smells like salt, Mama!”

Smiling, Mikoto pets her hair. “Yes, my sweet. It does. The ocean has a lot of salt. Sometimes you can collect it and then cook with it.”

“Does it taste good?”

“I think so. Maybe we can find lunch here with some sea salt. Would you like that?”

“Yeah!”

Before leaving the first village, Mikoto not only bought a horse, but also a hooded cloak for her and Kamui. One, to protect from the elements. And two, it’s just better if nobody notices Kamui’s otherworldly features as much as possible. Her hair is long enough now that she can hide her ears behind it when they’re indoors. Her eyes aren’t out of the ordinary unless you’re staring for a long time and notice the pupils. As for her teeth, those are harder to see, so strangers haven’t made any comments. Yet.

They eat lunch at a shop near the shore. Kamui keeps her rabbit miniature and her doll at the table, as they’re the only toys she owns. Orochi had explained if the castle children couldn’t steal Kamui’s lunch, they’d take her toys instead, of which she only had a few to begin with. They were never recovered, or they were too damaged to be used again.

_No more of that._ Mikoto strokes Kamui’s cheek with her thumb as she gulfs down her bowl of food. _You’ll be somewhere new, a place where nobles can’t bother you. Hopefully._

After lunch, they travel to the docks for passage onto a ship. Unfortunately, none currently docked are for regular transit. Just commercial ships. “But there’s one comin’ early in the morn,” a fisherman tells her. “You can ask for a ticket over yonder.” He leads her to the storefront where she can purchase boat fare. “Dunno why you’d wanna go to Nohr though,” he mentions after she pays. “Haven’t been any farther inland than the tradin’ port, but I heard it’s rough. Landscapes are all shot to hell or somethin’. Bunch of bandits and barbarians over there too.”

“I’m sure there are still nice places to see,” Mikoto says. “I can also handle myself. Thank you for the information, though.”

They stay at an inn for the night. She bathes with Kamui, making sure to clean her well enough before they have to head on the boat. There usually aren’t any wash rooms on ships, though she’s heard newer models are going to have them built. The trip to Notre Sagesse isn’t far from the port. They’ll get there by the end of the day, or even late afternoon. Still, it’s better to be clean before boarding. Who knows when the passenger ship was last scrubbed down?

Early the next morning, Mikoto takes Kamui and their horse to the port. Other people are waiting at the docks for the same ship. Some are travelers, others merchants, and some just looking for work. None speak with her, perhaps because they’re still drowsy. Kamui herself is still asleep in Mikoto’s arms, holding on tight to her doll.

At the brink of sunrise, the ship finally pulls in. Passengers disembark and only then are new ones allowed on. Mikoto gives her fare to the attendant and then carefully leads her horse up the plank. A deckhand escorts her to the stables and has her write her name down in a book and a tag so he knows which horse or other beast of burden belongs to which passenger.

It’s not a luxury ship, but it’s fine enough for commoners like herself to have their own room, or only board with two or three more people. Women and children in one if they’re single, and men in another. Families get their own space.

Luckily, she’s the only woman with a child this trip and gets her own room with a key. Kamui waddles to the bed and falls right back asleep the moment her head hits the pillow. Mikoto sets their things down and curls up next to her daughter.

_I’ll call Arete later. For now, I think I’ll sleep too._

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


She doesn’t dream of anything, and barely hears the boat horn to signal that they’ve landed sometime later. The same deckhand from before has to knock on her door to tell her they’ve arrived.

Mikoto wakes Kamui and carries her back to their horse. She follows others off the plank and onto the cobblestone streets of Notre Sagesse’s port. Kamui murmurs something into her neck before falling silent again in a blissful slumber.

Being that the island is a halfway point between the two countries, it’s an independent little nation. Neither completely Nohrian nor completely Hoshidan, but it does have elements from both. (The two large countries like to each claim it’s more ‘theirs’ than the other’s.) Some buildings are Nohrian designed, and the sanctuary at the top of the mountain is more Hoshidan influenced. A few buildings are both, such as with Nohrian pointed arched windows, but Hoshidan roof tops.

Cuisine is a mix of the two as well. One establishment might sell Hoshidan cuisine, and then right next to it will be a bakery of Nohrian desserts. Even the citizens dress in a combined style of both cultures. Mikoto finds Notre Sagesse to be the closest thing to eternal peace between both nations. The island is a holy spot, so perhaps that’s the reason. It’s said that one of the last divine dragons made his home here on the mountain where the sanctuary now stands. But, it’s more of a fable than actual fact. As far as she knows, anyway.

Outside of Notre Sagesse, only one element is somewhat common-ground between the two cultures, and that is money.

Some centuries ago, the two countries used different currency out of precious ores native to their respective lands. But it ended up being useful for weapons, and so they changed to paper and gold coins. Gold is abundant in both nations of varying qualities, but it’s absolutely useless for weapons and anything made for combat. Nobles and other aristocracy are the only persons who use gold to reflect their lavish lifestyle. While abundant, turning gold into things like textiles and edible ingredients is still too costly for everyone else, so commoners care little about it aside from using it as the global currency.

Mikoto only has enough gold coin for a week’s worth of residence at an inn. This is something she mentions to Arete later that night when Kamui is fast asleep.

“That’s fine. I should be there in three more days,” Arete says. “Nohr has a vacation home in Notre that you can stay in.”

“It won’t be odd having a Hoshidan woman there?”

“Gunter will know who you are once he sees you. You’ve met him before when I was last at Shirasagi.”

“Ah, yes. That Great Knight who watches after Azura’s little servants. I still can’t believe mere children are already learning the trade of maids and butlers.”

“Punishment from Garon. Well, the girls at least. Jakob hates his parents and ran away. He’d rather be a servant for life than go back there.”

“That’s horrible!”

“I know, but his mother and father don’t seem to give a single damn that he’s gone. Last I saw them, they seemed happier. But that could be because of the affair thing.”

Mikoto makes plans to meet up with Arete when she arrives in three days’ time. Until then, she spends her stay taking Kamui around Notre Sagesse to see all the sights and shops. Ever since they left Shirasagi, her girl has been smiling and laughing a lot more. But why wouldn’t she? There isn’t anyone here to make her feel like an abomination or absolute garbage. While she does occasionally mention she misses her friends, like Kaze, she cheers up afterward with all the new sights, sounds, and smells of wherever they’re at.

When the three days roll around, Mikoto waits in her room at the inn. She doesn’t want to leave in case the Hoshidan royal guard is looking for her here. The opal is clutched in her hand, waiting for her sister’s call.

It begins to glow, and then Arete’s voice hums from it. “Hello, Mikoto?”

“Yes, yes I’m here.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been waiting for me just sitting in your room since the morning.”

She chuckles. “How did you know?”

“I’ve lived with you for years. I’d be a bad sister if I didn’t.” Arete pauses, saying something to Gunter, and then a door closes. “Anyway, I don’t know if you’ve taken a gander outside, but Hoshidan foot soldiers are roaming around. Unfortunately, they saw me and now wish to have an audience.”

“Oh, damn….”

“Not to worry. I’ve sent Jakob to fetch you at the inn.”

“Arete, how old is he? He’s just a little boy.”

“A well-traveled little boy of about 11 who’s been here unsupervised by his parents several times. He knows these backstreets better than you. So put together your things and wait for him. Both you and Kamui. You’ll have to leave your horse, but if you really want it back, I’ll just re-buy it from the inn. I’ll make up some fib.”

Mikoto hurries to gather her things after that. Kamui wakes up from her nap, and does as she’s told to. She fills her own little sack of belongings and carries it in her arms. Mikoto picks her up and tells her not to make a sound. Then she hurries down the stairs and narrowly misses two Hoshidan guards entering the building.

She exits through the backdoor near the kitchen. The cook is busy over the roaring fire and so doesn’t hear the creaky hinge over the noise of footsteps up above or the clanging of pots and pans. By the time she turns around, Jakob is in fact, already there.

“Are you that lady I was told about?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“Yes, that’s me. Don’t you remember? I saw you at Shirasagi that time you came.”

“No,” he says flatly, “so prove it. What’s your name?”

“Mikoto, and this is Kamui.”

He grunts. “Okay, then follow me. Don’t make noise.”

Jakob isn’t a very conversational boy. In fact, he’s quite rude. Arete warned her beforehand that he’s uncouth to anyone who isn’t her or Azura. The queen blames his parents for a lack of etiquette and for letting him wander for hours by himself along the streets. But, it proves useful today as he nimbly guides her away from Hoshidan soldiers giving descriptions to citizens about what she looks like. Notably, they don’t describe Kamui. All they do is say she has a young daughter with black hair who goes out barefoot most of the time.

She wonders how much Sumeragi spent on this search party, considering there are Hoshidan guards walking along every street. Either they truly think Kamui will become a threat, or they don’t want anyone to know that harassment of children is tolerated in the castle if they don’t meet societal norms.

“Are we almost there?” she whispers to Jakob as they hide behind a crate when two guards pass.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Only another street over. Come on, lady.”

Just as he said, their destination is over a bridge beyond the tea house a few paces away. The Nohrian vacation home is a small, dark colored mansion framed by tall trees and plants. It’s the only entirely Nohrian structure in all of Notre Sagesse, just like the Hoshidan vacation home is of its own influence on the other side of the island. It has three floors, each with pointed arched windows and an oculus above the similarly arched door. Nohrian columns frame the door, the pedestals carved into ornate floral decorations.

But they don’t go through the front because Hoshidan guards are entering the mansion. Jakob takes them around the backdoor instead. One of the cooks asks who Mikoto is, and Jakob rudely tells her, “None of your business,” before hurrying through the servant hallway.

“We can use the regular hallways,” he says randomly. “But there’s more of those Hoshidan people walking out there. Queen Arete told me whatever happens, I can’t let them see you.”

“Thank you, Jakob. You’ve been very helpful.”

“Yeah whatever.”

His parents _definitely_ failed in raising him properly.

When they come to the end of the hallway, there’s a door leading into the servants’ quarters. It’s not a bedroom, but more of a lounge for them to spend their idle time, if they have any. It’s plainly furnished with basic tables, chairs, and shelves. Jakob opens the storage closest and points, “You gotta get in there.”

“But—”

“No, because I dunno if the Hoshidan people are gonna come in here. I used to hide in places like these all the time at my stupid house. Nobody finds me until like three days later. Get in and don’t make noise. Or that kid. Queen Arete said that the Hoshidan guards are ‘thorough’ which means they check all buildings. Did you kill somebody important from over there? Is that why they’re looking for you?”

“I did not, Jakob.”

“Oh okay. I wouldn’t care even if you did. I think you should kill important people if they’re trash because they’re wasting space being useless,” he says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. Mikoto hopes he isn’t speaking of his parents. “Now get inside.”

She listens to him, if only because a child having little thought for the act of killing is quite eerie. Mikoto hides behind a crate, and Jakob closes the door. “Don’t come out until I tell you. And I won’t know until Queen Arete says so. You understand?”

“Yes Jakob, I do understand.”

It’s silent on the other end, but she can still hear the boy muttering to himself. Kamui has been quiet since they left the inn, perhaps because she’s still drowsy. She doesn’t question why they’re cramped in a closet; only leans against Mikoto’s chest, and then promptly falls back asleep. A few minutes pass, and then there are murmurs of Hoshidan words coming from the hallway before the door opens. The guards speak in Midway, asking Jakob some questions. He responds in Nohrian, perhaps to bug them right off.

“Boy, please speak in Midway. We know you know it considering you responded.”

“Go fuck yourself,” he again replies in Nohrian.

_Oh my. An 11-year-old shouldn’t know those words._ _Exactly what sort of people are his parents?_ Mikoto is glad the soldiers don’t speak the language. They probably have katana and naginata equipped if she has to guess, and Jakob’s sharp tongue wouldn’t stand a chance against the refined blades.

The guards sigh in frustration and mumble something in Hoshidan before leaving. (She’s sure it’s something like, “This search is a waste of time and money.”) Jakob doesn’t bother coming to the door for a good long while. Mikoto isn’t even sure if he’s still in the room. When the sound of the door opens again, heels click along the wooden floor.

“Jakob,” comes Arete’s voice, “the Hoshidan soldiers are gone now.”

“Okay, milady.” He walks over to the storage closet and opens the door. According to the window on the back wall, they’ve spent some few hours in hiding. The sky is orange now with a tint of purple. She thanks the gods Kamui is a well-behaved child and slept through the whole ordeal.

“You can come out now,” Jakob says. He stares at Kamui, who is just beginning to wake for the second time that day. She yawns, and he raises an eyebrow. “Why does she have sharp ones of these?” He lifts his own lip with his finger, pointing to his canine teeth. “And her eyes are kinda like a lizard’s.”

Arete walks over to him and places her hands on his shoulders. “It’s not nice to stare, Jakob.”

“I don’t really care if she looks weird,” he responds. “But she’s not gonna hurt Lady Azura, right?”

“No, she won’t. Now go tell the cooks to set out two extra plates for dinner. Please also tell Gunter to have the guest room ready.”

Jakob nods and then walks out of the room, closing the door behind him. Arete sighs before helping Mikoto get on her feet. “He really is a good boy,” she defends, as if apologizing. “Jakob’s making excellent progress in his training as a butler, though he needs to work on his manners.”

“A boy of 11 shouldn’t already know so many curse words.” Mikoto lifts Kamui into her arms. “But that’s the least of our worries.”

“For Gunter it’s not,” Arete says lightly. She holds Mikoto by the arms, shaking her head. “It really is good to see you again, Sister. But I can’t say I’m happy with the circumstances.”

“It’s not like I wanted to risk leaving the castle just because. Kamui couldn’t stay there; I refuse to raise her in such a hostile environment.”

“A mother will do what’s best for her children, I understand.” Arete picks up the belongings left in the closest. “If this is everything, then let me show you to your quarters.”

Mikoto spends some time to herself unpacking their things when Arete leaves her new room. Kamui is sitting on the bed, playing with her doll. She straightens out its little dress with her fingers. “Mama, are we ever gonna go back to Shirasagi?”

“I don’t know, my dear,” she replies honestly. “For now, we’ll stay here, alright? I know you miss your friends, but you can make new ones here. They’ll also be nicer.”

“Okay.”

Since arriving in Notre Sagesse, Mikoto has made an effort to buy whatever Nohrian-styled clothing she can afford. She’s left all her Hoshidan garb back at the inn, having thrown it away in the waste bin outside. Kamui has only ever worn Hoshidan attire, so Mikoto was surprised to find she doesn’t mind the simple gray dress she now wears. It has three white buttons down the front, and black stitching on the short sleeves. The black shoes she minds more, but having a child barefoot will cause suspicion, as she’s positive the guards have mentioned Kamui not liking footwear. But Mikoto compromised that if she wears them when told, she can run around indoors in just her stockings.

Jakob comes to call them for dinner as Mikoto is tying Kamui’s hair into a ponytail. She has her wash up before leading her down the steps to the dining room. Arete is already there with Azura at the front of the table. Jakob disappears behind the door to the kitchen, and out appear the twins she’s heard about, Flora and Felicia. She’s thankful they’re color-coded by their hair like Saizo and Kaze, otherwise she’d never be able to tell them apart.

Felicia trips on the rug, causing the tray she’s holding to jolt. Immediately Flora dives in front to catch the wine glasses before they can shatter on the floor. She glares up at her sister, who fervently apologizes.

“Watch where you’re walking, Felicia!” she scolds.

“I-I’m sorry!”

Arete glances to Mikoto. “She is… not making the same kind of progress as her sister or Jakob. But she’s dedicated, at least.”

Gunter comes in with the serving cart, Jakob right beside him. The man looks at both Mikoto and Kamui. He says nothing for a moment, instead supervising Jakob as the boy serves them food. Then, “Esteemed guest of her majesty Queen Arete, I’m Sir Gunter. Should you need anything during your stay, do not hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you, Sir Gunter. But you needn’t trouble yourself.”

“It’s no trouble at all. Just know I’m also a veteran soldier, and will not hesitate to maim anyone who dares threaten her majesty’s life.”

“No, I understand.”

“You don’t need to scare her Gunter,” Arete says, serving herself some wine. “She won’t harm me.”

“My job is to protect you, and intimidation comes with that.” He stares at Kamui for a moment. The girl meets his eyes and then quickly looks down at her lap. “I don’t know what importance you have to the Hoshidan crown for them to look for you and your child all the way out here. Lady Arete has a big heart,” he focuses his attention on Mikoto, “and I’d advise you to not abuse it.”

He leaves before Arete can scold him again. Jakob and the twins finish their serving, making a polite bow before disappearing back through the kitchen doors.

“The man is kinder than he looks, or acts,” Arete says, cutting into her fillet fish. “Intimidating as he may seem, he’s an excellent retainer. I worry little on my trips around Nohr when he’s in my company.”

“That’s good. And I’m not upset or anything.” Mikoto helps Kamui cut her food. She really ought to teach her how to use Nohrian dining utensils. Who knows how long they’ll stay here? “I understand why he’s so protective.”

In silence they eat. Azura says little to nothing during that time. She glances at Kamui now and again, and answers casual questions Mikoto asks her, but otherwise doesn’t speak up. Kamui herself doesn’t talk at all, perhaps worried somebody else is going to bully her. That’s all that seems to happen when she tries to socialize. Considering Azura feared for her life every time she was in Krakenburg, Mikoto doesn’t blame her either for making as much noise as a mouse.

“Garon knows who you are,” Arete says when the dinner plates have been cleaned of their meals. “I can’t just return bringing a mysterious Hoshidan guest without that slime creature Iago interrogating both of us until sundown. We’ll think of something to lessen the suspicion, don’t worry. Until then, you’re free to take refuge in my home.”

Mikoto folds her napkin, as dirty as it may be. “I’m sorry you’re going through so much trouble. It seems you’re always having to hold my hand when things get tough, and I shouldn’t put that burden on you.”

Arete frowns. “You’re my family, Mikoto. If I can help you, I will.”

“But I haven’t learned _anything_ since then,” she argues. “And he’s getting closer and closer. I thought I had an ally in Sumeragi, but the castle is hostile to my child. Sometimes even to me. There are those that blame me for Ikona’s death because I couldn’t save her. I know Hinoka blames me. She can’t even stand to look me in the eye when we speak.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t blame you.”

“Sumeragi told me she does, though. He said to think nothing of it because she’s in the wrong, but I can’t.” Mikoto holds her face in her hands. “You’ve done so much since that time—things on your own, whereas I seem to always need assistance. I’m also a single mother raising a gifted child all by myself.” She smiles weakly at Kamui, dabbing away a spot of sauce from the corner of her mouth with a napkin. “A child who I love more than anything, but one who also attracts unjust scorn. I’ve been saving as much money as I can to leave; something I’ve been planning for a while. But now I don’t know where to go from here. I’m almost out of what I’ve saved.”

“That’s a lie, however,” Arete starts. “Yes, I’m at where I am because of my independence, but I also got help along the way— _looked_ for help. Getting help isn’t wrong or bad. People won’t and will never get anywhere without it.”

Mikoto presses her back into the backrest of the ornate cushioned chairs. “Yes, I know. I guess I simply feel lost. And I keep thinking about how this all started. Every time I try to be responsible, something happens that makes me feel cornered again. I manage to escape, but just end up in another unfortunate situation just like the last.”

“You’re doing your best,” Arete says after a pause. Her warm hand reaches out for Mikoto’s own, squeezing it lightly. “So long as you continue to do your best, that’s all that matters. But let people help you when they offer, alright? You’re doing all of this for your daughter, and that’s something I can relate to.”

She nods, squeezing her hand in return. “Thank you, Arete.”

“What are big sisters for?”

“Putting the younger ones in line.”

Arete chuckles. “Yes, I suppose that’s one reason. I’d rather have to look out for you than not having ever found you in the first place, though.”

That’s definitely a perspective to hold on to. Even if she’s lost now, a good few days rest here should alieve some stress until she can think clearly again. Maybe Kamui can even get to know Azura, and the girl can also spend some time with her aunt. It’s definitely a step up than the poor girl trying to please everyone so she isn’t bullied.

“My sentiments exactly,” Mikoto replies sincerely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another note from me about the joys of taking creative liberties with world building:
> 
> Obviously the Hoshidan language is meant to be the Japanese language in this universe. Nohr is more difficult to pinpoint. It's an amalgamation of a couple of different European influences, and based on the canon information we do have on it, I'm gonna assume it's a mix of: French Gothic, Roman Empire, Scottish, and Norse. Maybe. So it's hard to have _one_ language be the equivalent of what Nohrian sounds like. But considering Nohr is just an intentional misspelling of the French word "noire", the Nohrian language is therefore primarily French. In this story, anyway. So every time you see a character speaking in Nohrian, they're speaking French. Lol
> 
> As for what Midway is (this is the language I made up myself), it's not English. Considering many people can speak it in this universe, I'd say it's a much older language. Historically IRL, English wasn't the first international language, I'm positive. I forgot which one _was_ , however. And there's disagreement among scholars as to which language was truly the "first" one. So you can choose for yourself what Midway is. Just remember: it's not English, despite me writing this story in English. Lmao
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	25. XXV

Kamui still doesn’t like shoes. Her mother makes her wear them outside all the time. But if she has to pick, she likes the Hoshidan sandals better than the shiny black shoes with a buckle. She can’t wiggle her toes with these.

Miss Arete is nice. Whenever the pretty lady sees her, she always says hello with a smile. Sometimes she even gives her treats, like these cookies in different colors. They come in a fancy tin box that have little legs at the corners. And then sometimes, she gives her these candies called ‘chocolate’.

They’re the best thing she’s ever had. Even better than mochi.

But her mama says she can’t eat chocolate all the time. “It’s only a treat, not actual food,” she had said. “And chocolate is somewhat expensive. So go tell Miss Arete thank you for giving you some.”

One time, Ryoma told Kamui about this ‘chocolate’. He said he ate it once when he went to Nohr and that it sucks it doesn’t grow in Hoshido. Now she knows why he likes it so much.

Here at the mansion, she doesn’t have any friends like back at the castle. Flora and Felicia, and Jakob too, aren’t mean to her; they’re just always busy. Mister Gunter is training them to serve people, a job called ‘maids’ and ‘butlers’. They work for the nobles and royalty, like the ones back in Hoshido. Maybe everywhere has maids and butlers, but they’re called different things.

The only time she gets to talk to them is when they’re doing chores. But her mama says not to keep bothering them because otherwise Mister Gunter will get mad.

“Can I help?” she asks one day, as they’re folding laundry. “I wanna learn.”

“But you’re not a servant,” Flora says. “You’re a guest.” She and Felicia are folding a bedsheet. Flora has one side, and Felicia another. They walk to the center and line up the corners on each of their sides to make it smaller. Then they repeat it again until only one of them has to finish folding.

“Yeah, it’s okay Kamui,” Felicia replies with a smile.

“Do you not want to play with me?” asks Kamui in a soft voice. She pulls at the buttons on her dress. “It’s okay if you don’t. Nobody in Hoshido wanted to play with me either….”

Jakob huffs. “We’re busy doing chores. Gunter won’t let us play until we’re done, and we’re never done ‘cause there’s always something to do.” He’s folding one of Gunter’s shirts. It looks like a messy rectangle and one of the sleeves is poking out from the bottom. “Why didn’t you have friends in Hoshido? Is it because of your face?”

“That’s not nice Jakob!” Felicia cries. “Don’t be mean!” Flora doesn’t say anything, only gives a glance to them before going back to fold stockings.

Kamui covers her ears with her hands. Most of the time, her hair hides them. But today her mama wanted to tie it up in something called a ‘braid’. It looks nice, and reminds her of bread. Though now everyone can see her demon ears.

“I don’t care if they’re pointy,” Jakob says. “Or that you have little fangs and snake eyes. Are you a vampire?”

She shakes her head. “I-I don’t know what that is.”

“Well that sucks.” He goes to fold another shirt. “Then why do you look like that?”

Kamui reaches for the pouch tied on her belt. “No, you’ll call me a monster if you knew, just like everyone else did….”

“So then you can turn into something?” Jakob stops folding, eyeing the pouch. “I saw it one time, that weird stone. Do you need it? Are you like the wolfskin?”

“Um, I don’t know what that is either.”

“They’re wolf people who can turn into a huge wolf monster.”

“Oh,” Kamui shakes her head, “no I’m… well, I can turn into a dragon.” She backs away close to the door. “But I’m not gonna transform! So don’t make me!”

“A dragon?” Flora asks. “Like the gods? Didn’t they all die a long time ago?”

“I dunno. I don’t know about gods and dragons. Hoshido has pictures and statues of a pretty white dragon called the Dawn Dragon. But my dragon doesn’t look anything like that. A-And, I didn’t mean to transform the first time. But a noble boy was bullying me and my friends and he wouldn’t stop! And then he was throwing things at me and kicked dirt in my face! So I got really mad and transformed and my claws scratched him on his face and now he has scars.”

“Good,” Jakob says, going back to his work.

Flora turns on her heel, her mouth open wide. “That’s not good, Jakob!”

“That bully sounds like he got what he deserved. A lot of nobles are a waste of space, no matter where they come from. He didn’t stop hurting other people and then got hurt himself. Only idiots do that.”

“Uh,” Felicia smiles crookedly at Kamui, rocking back and forth on her heels, “th-that sounds kinda scary. But… y-you don’t want to hurt other people anymore, right?”

“I never wanted to! When I get really mad—that’s why I have this stone,” she clutches the pouch at her hip, “so I can control my dragon. I can’t see when I transform. Everything is in colors in weird shapes and Mama says I see ‘temperature’, not images.”

“As long as you don’t hurt Lady Azura,” Jakob says without looking at her, “then I don’t care if you’re a dragon or not. Nobody else should either. You were born like that, and there’s nothing you can do about it, right?”

Kamui shrugs, glancing between the other kids. “I don’t think so….”

Jakob grunts at the shirt he’s folding, and rolls it into a ball. “This stupid thing—well, then it’s whatever. And at least you can defend yourself if somebody is trying to hurt you. But who picks on little girls? That’s shitty.”

“Gunter said not to say bad words!” Felicia shouts.

“Well I don’t care what that _shitty_ old man says! He also says not to drop plates and you do it all the time! Then _I_ have to clean it up because I’m ‘the eldest’. You’re only a year younger; _you_ should clean it. It’s _your_ mess! You’re not gonna be a good maid if you’re always breaking things!”

Flora stomps her foot on the ground. “Stop fighting! We’re supposed to work together!”

Kamui sneaks away and softly shuts the door. Those three don’t always argue, but when they do, it’s about chores. She’d hate to do them, but her mama says not to leave messes for other people to clean up if you have time and can do it yourself. It’s not nice to the ‘housekeeping’.

She wanders around the mansion after that. It’s a nice big house with pretty floral carpets and cool-shaped windows called arches. There aren’t a lot of windows with glass in Hoshido; only bars to keep away burglars and then in winter the windows are covered up so the snow and cold air doesn’t come in.

Azura isn’t always around. She’s at her lessons a lot with a tutor, something noble kids get to do. It’s called ‘education’ and Mama said once, “Commoners like us don’t get such things. We can’t afford it, but I’ll teach you what I can myself. I’m sorry, Kamui.” But it’s okay; she wasn’t mad at her mama. She’ll just learn by looking and asking questions. Or tasting, like how she learned rocks don’t taste good like frogs.

There’s a window Kamui likes to sit at. It has a cushioned seat, and it’s next to a small round table holding up a vase of ‘roses’, which is a type of flower. They’re pretty and smell nice, but they need to be cut first because they have thorns. They also come in different colors, but mostly red, pink, and white. The mansion has a lot of purple ones though.

Her window is empty today. Sometimes Jakob takes a nap there. Or one of the maids reads when it’s still daytime. It’s for everyone, but Kamui hides her doll behind the red square pillow. That makes it her place, but she doesn’t mind if other people want to use it too.

Mama calls it a ‘window seat’, which makes sense because you sit in front of a window. Her doll is still there, but it has a new little dress now. Last time she played with it, it just had the green shirt. Somebody must’ve found her doll and gave it a little dress.

From the window, she can see the courtyard and the bakery across the bridge. A stream runs under it, and sometimes cute ducks are swimming there. But today, she recognizes the flags. They’re red and white, with a little bit of gold. The clothes look familiar too, and they’re coming over the bridge to the mansion.

“Hoshido colors.”

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Mikoto doesn’t know what more she could’ve done to protect herself from being found. But that’s the advantage of being royalty and having an endless supply of expert ninja to track someone down. Saizo the Fourth is in a class all of his own.

“How long did you think you could run?” he asks.

She doesn’t humor him with an immediate reply. Instead she pays the baker and carries the basket of warm bread out of the store. “I had to try,” she replies as they walk. “How much does King Sumeragi pay you? You’re the most dutiful retainer I’ve ever met.”

“My income is unimportant. The king deserves all the loyalty one could ever ask for. He’s a good man, so I don’t know why you wanted to leave.”

“Tell me, sir, how far would you go for your sons?”

“What does that—”

“How far would you go for your own flesh and blood? Would you do absolutely anything to keep them safe? Do what you think is best for them? Because those were my intentions in leaving Shirasagi.” She turns on her heel to him, stance steady and back straight. She’ll repeat it until it gets through his thick skull, and everyone else’s for that matter.

“My daughter was being treated like a prisoner in a fancy cage. And no matter what I said, no matter how often she cried in private or public, adults and children alike didn’t give one single damn. It’s not her fault she’s the way she is—that’s mine, and the burden to right wrongs falls onto me. That’s why I left. Not to share castle secrets or because I was a spy. But because I absolutely refuse to subject my daughter to a life of misery simply for being born ‘incorrectly’. And if your king and your people condone the bullying and harassment of little girls, then I quite honestly want _nothing_ to do with a society like that.”

Saizo doesn’t respond. He looks away toward the mansion for whatever reason. Perhaps Sumeragi is waiting there. It’s never a secret when the queen of Nohr—or any royal, really—visits someplace. And this Master Ninja has probably been tracking Mikoto for weeks, only reporting back when he was sure she’d make a permanent home someplace.

“The king is here if you wish to make a formal complaint,” Saizo informs. “Your letter only caused worry instead of getting your point across.”

“No matter what rules he may place, that doesn’t guarantee a single thing. When his back is turned, or when he’s out of the castle, everyone goes right back to treating Kamui like a creature. His time will be wasted speaking to me.”

She doesn’t get a response, but that’s fine. While Saizo is a father, he’s a much stricter parent than she is. His sons are training in the art of assassination, after all. There’s no room for coddling, or even childhood memories.

He escorts her back to the mansion where the Hoshidan royal convoy is stationed. Guards are standing by the door and greet Saizo politely when he reaches the front steps. Mikoto takes the bread basket to the kitchen, pulling out a croissant. She left the mansion today because she wanted to treat Kamui to something. But even doing small things for her daughter seems to have consequences.

If Anankos is watching somehow, no doubt he’s having a real grand time over her frustrations.

“To bring King Sumeragi all the way here,” Gunter starts as he walks into the foyer, “well you must be someone of high importance.”

“I’m a nobody,” she says. “Just a woman trying to give her daughter a better life.”

Gunter doesn’t speak more to her, but instead instructs her to go to the sunroom where Arete and Sumeragi are having afternoon tea. Reluctantly she goes, hoping Kamui is on the upper floors somewhere and away from all the familiar scornful looks.

“Ah, you’re back,” Arete greets once Mikoto walks through the door. She shuts it gently, but stays put. “Did you get Kamui those croissants she likes?”

“I did. They were just baked too, so they’re still warm. I planned to bring them to her, but it looks like that’ll have to wait.”

Sumeragi stands, clearing his throat. “Good afternoon, Miss Mikoto. There’s a lot we need to speak about.”

“You’ve read the letter I left; Saizo told me so. There’s nothing more to say. I’m sorry you wasted efforts and finances to come this far, your majesty.”

“Mikoto,” Arete pats the seat on the couch next to her, “why don’t you sit with us for a while?”

Defiant, and just a little bitter toward the hand fate dealt her, Mikoto crosses her arms and stays put. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Arete sighs, and raises an eyebrow. “Mikoto, please.”

Both sovereigns keep their focus on her until she gives in. She sits up straight in the seat next to Arete, leaving the croissant on the end table. It’s going to get cold. What a waste.

“Thank you,” Sumeragi starts, sitting back down. “I have read your letter. Quite a few times in fact. And I—”

“Milord, let me save everyone some time: I don’t ever plan on returning to the castle, or even Hoshido. I’d be a horrible mother if I allowed Kamui to grow up in an environment that just makes her hate herself until she cries. A little girl shouldn’t spend her childhood years swallowed in misery because she was trying to do the right thing.”

“I know,” he says calmly. “And I have to say I got quite a verbal lashing about it.”

“From who? I can’t imagine anyone speaking against you.”

“Ryoma doesn’t have that problem.” Sumeragi shakes his head, a fond smile on his lips. “When he found out why you left, he’s refused to speak with me since that day. Said it was my fault you and Kamui were gone, and that he was right about the council needing to be replaced. Takumi is a little younger so he doesn’t quite understand yet, but knowing Kamui was gone—and because his elder brother told him why, well… I’d hope he’d stop his tantrum stage. I was mistaken.”

“So your own child had to scold you in order for you to understand what I’ve been saying since I found out about the harassment?”

“No. I was already prepared to bring up the topic again. When I got back to Hoshido after Lady Yukiko’s funeral, Ryoma proved to be a better royal than I am. He stood up to me about Kamui’s treatment, and I have to say, I was proud of him. The negative side of that is it surfaced guilt I tried not to have, but couldn’t ignore any further. And before I could formally bring up the subject again with you or my council, you had vanished.”

It’s too convenient. But then again, she’s never known Sumeragi to lie. Ryoma has a promising future ahead of him if he can get his father—the  _king_ —to revisit old rules and change them. He was always one of the few children who never treated Kamui horribly, but she credits that to Ikona’s hand in raising him.

Oh, if only she were still Vallite royalty, that boy would’ve made a good husband for Kamui, she’s sure of it.

“What do you want from me, your majesty?” Mikoto asks tiredly.

“That’s something I was speaking about with Lady Arete.” He nods toward her. “Would you care to explain, please?”

Arete sets down the saucer and tea cup on the table. She poises herself in her seat, her hands folded in her lap. “Before Ikona died, she had a wish for everlasting peace between Hoshido and Nohr. One way she envisioned that to happen is to have the royal houses more familiar with the other’s culture. She planned it so that one heir from each kingdom will live together for a certain amount of time. Essentially, learning alongside the other to become ambassadors of sorts. But it can’t be the crown princes, for obvious reasons. It’d have to be one of their younger siblings.”

“King Garon has already agreed to it,” Sumeragi adds. “But we hadn’t laid out the details quite yet at that time. It’s why I’m thankful I could have this meeting with Queen Arete by chance. We’ve decided the exchange shall be held here in Notre Sagesse, in this very mansion, even. They’ll alternate between living here and the Hoshidan vacation home. For about,” he looks to Arete, stroking his beard, “how many years did we say?”

“About seven,” she replies. “There’s a lot to learn of the other’s culture: language, history, cuisine, customs—and so on. If we want this to be successful, we have to make small sacrifices. It’ll be hard to be away from one of our children for a long time, but it’ll benefit both kingdoms. This I’m positive of. On our side, Azura has been chosen to go. Castle Krakenburg doesn’t exactly hold too many fond memories. She’s the middle child, so it’s perfect. I hear they often feel the least important in large families like ours, and I want to avoid her growing up with such notions.”

“But,” Sumeragi hums, leaning against the cushioned backrest of the couch, “I haven’t yet decided which child of mine to send. However, we had originally intended to alter Ikona’s plans. That’s when I thought of you and Kamui.”

“She’s not a royal heir,” Mikoto reminds. “Or even a noble.”

“No, but it would get her away from the hostility of the castle. Azura is a sweet girl, and I’m sure Kamui would fare much better here socially. When I brought this up to a vote, only three out of eleven council chairs agreed to it, however.”

“I don’t need to take a guess as to why.”

The man nods. “You are one of our most skilled healers, and she hasn’t had much experience in etiquette or education. They think it’ll take too long in comparison to sending somebody like say, Takumi, who’s already started lessons since he was four.”

Mikoto knows another excuse is Kamui’s transformation. They don’t want her to leave the castle, ever. Whether for the safety of others, or because they think she’ll be used as a weapon by any enemies should she leave, Mikoto can’t be sure. But she can’t allow her daughter to live in isolation.

How would she feel growing up in the castle? Time will pass by in an instant, and it’ll be cruel on her when she becomes an adolescent. Seeing her friends, the royal siblings, being courted by other nobles and having attention lavished on them from everyone with eyes. Seeing the staff’s children freely venture to and from the castle, sharing stories about their platonic bonds and romantic endeavors.

And her? Being called a ‘freak’ over and over until she willfully locks herself up in her room? Never being allowed to attend festivals or hunting parties or even browse the shops on a sunny day? Who will watch over her if Mikoto passes too soon? Ryoma certainly can’t; he’ll be king by then raising his own family. Hinoka might not ever like her, and Takumi will be busy as well. Sakura might have the least duties, but she’s younger and will no doubt have friends close to her age, and suitors eating up her time when she’s of marriageable maturity.

The royal children can’t be her friends forever. They were born to serve their nation and its people, not to prioritize one friendship of an outcast. All the other children around are either offspring of the castle staff, visiting nobles, military, retainers-to-be, or ninja. All of whom will have no interest or time for the ‘monster’ of Shirasagi once their childhood expires.

It’s always been—and possibly always will be—less of Kamui’s commoner status, and more of not fitting the norm.

“King Sumeragi,” Mikoto hugs her arms, her stare not leaving his, “since you and your people have made up your mind, why bother telling me this? I know your intentions were good, and I do appreciate the effort, but it—,” her heart pinches in her chest, “please, all I ask is for one thing, and one thing only: do not give me or my daughter— _especially_ my daughter, any hope that she’ll live a normal life in Shirasagi Castle. We both know that’s a blunt lie. You’ve heard for yourself from your own son how she’s constantly treated. Being an ambassador won’t change that. I have to think of her future, and it’s looking bleak.”

Arete gives her a look, and Mikoto adds, “I’m not being pessimistic. I’m being rational. She’ll be better off as a commoner in some village. I find they’re more accepting of ‘oddities’ in people.” Mikoto sighs and walks to the end table with the croissant. “If that’s all, I’d like to ask permission to leave the room now.”

“If that’s what you wish,” Arete stands, glancing to Sumeragi, “then you can leave.”

“Thank you.” Mikoto bows to the king, “I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time with me,” and then heads to the door. “Have a safe journey back home, your majesty.”

Sooner than her hand can reach the doorknob, Sumeragi asks, “What if she were a noble? Would that change your mind? How about a royal, even?”

With a light huff, she turns to face him. “Kamui will never be a noble, let alone a royal.” _Not anymore, anyway. What a different life she would’ve lived if she were still that fortunate._ “Considering all the aristocratic children know of her, I doubt the concept of romance will ever be associated with my girl. Most nobles don’t marry commoners anyway.”

Arete clears her throat. “I’m going to return this,” she lifts the tea tray from the table, “to the kitchen. Mikoto, I’ll take Kamui the croissants.”

“No, it’s okay you don’t—”

“I insist.” Her sister plucks the bread from her hands, and gives her a smile. “They’ll get even colder this way. I promise to tell her they’re from you.” Arete is out of the room before Mikoto can begin to protest, or even process the situation.

Sumeragi walks closer to her. He seems so much taller than she’s used to. “I want to apologize for the lack of finesse with handling the harassment of your daughter. Please, will you listen just a bit longer, Miss Mikoto?”

Well, she has nothing to lose, and even less to gain. He looks genuinely remorseful too. “Very well.” She sits on the couch opposite of his from before. “I’ll listen.”

“Thank you.” Sumeragi, however, sits on the other end of her couch. His finger taps on his knee, and he glances down at his lap. “My apologies must feel hollow at this point.”

“You’re a good man, and a good father. Even a good king. I still believe that. I don’t blame you for feeling the pressure of other nobles either. But I’m also allowed to be bitter about the whole situation. Believe me, I understand why so many are cautious of Kamui. Yet if that were true, they’d avoid her completely, not go out of their way with harassment if they sincerely thought she was dangerous.”

“Miss Mikoto, you give kindness even when it’s not deserved.”

“No use in living in a world of malice. It’s my hope that my actions will show Kamui there’s strength in being kind, yet not so kind that others take and take until she has no kindness left for herself. That’s just as important too.”

She stares at her hands. They’re calloused after living in the village and working for Ikona. Before she had thought such hands were painful for artisans and laborers. Dry and cracked, with dirt and other things underneath their fingernails. But now she understands. Proof of having worked hard to keep the wheels spinning in a community. Contributing to a cause greater than oneself.

For her, it’s to Kamui’s happiness.

“You’re wise beyond your years,” Sumeragi compliments.

Mikoto smiles a little, tugging her sleeves closer to her wrists. “I’m not that old.”

“No, you’re not. But the qualities you possess resonate strongly with that of a queen.”

“If you’re trying to flatter me so I can return to Shirasagi,” she says lightly, “it won’t work. But thank you all the same.”

Sumeragi shakes his head, even stutters before he can get out a proper word. “It’s truth, not flattery. So sincere is it, that I’m embarrassed at the core of why I feel this way.”

“What do you mean?”

He stares at a point near the table, and closes his eyes. Taking a breath, he looks to her again, and says, “I will forever miss Ikona. Busy as I may be, I always found time to spend with her. Sometimes you were there to carry out her requests, and sometimes you weren’t. Always hardworking and dutiful, kind to my children, yet invisible to others. You saved every last gold coin you earned so Kamui could one day benefit from it. After all the hardships you’ve faced—from being trapped in giving your body to random men for little or no pay,” oh, right, she’s forgotten how embarrassing it is to hear that bit of her fake past, “to raising a child all on your own with no one to help you, well…”

“Lord Sumeragi, what are you getting at?”

“Miss Mikoto, I cannot say it any other way. I didn’t just search for you because of concerns from the castle, but also for—of course, you can decline. But,” he clears his throat, adjusting the forearm guards on his uniform, “I wish to ask if you would grace me with your hand in marriage.”

_Oh, that is definitely unexpected._

“I…,” heat smolders under her cheeks, “I’m not sure what to say.”

Would marriage to him really change the minds of people back at the castle? Kamui might always be a monster to them, no matter how many fine silks and gold accessories she wears. But, at least this way, people would be obligated to respect her, and maybe then she can grow into somebody they adore instead of abhor.

Then again, it might also just be a ploy to keep Kamui locked up. This time, with the excuse that she’s royalty now and needs to be ‘protected’.

“Might I have time to think it over?” she asks. “Not that—don’t misunderstand. The offer is wonderful, but…”

He looks a little dejected, and she has to wonder if his feelings for her really are genuine. “I understand; you must think of what’s best for Kamui. I believe I also know some of the things racing through your mind.”

Sumeragi stands, and offers his hand to her. She takes it, rising to her feet. “I will be in the Hoshidan manor for three more days,” he informs. “I can’t be away for so long, so that is all the time I can allot you. If you haven’t decided by then… well, I’ll understand.” He bows politely. “Good day, Miss Mikoto.”

It’s only after she’s sure he’s left that she goes to find Arete. Her sister is in the guest bedroom, playing with Kamui and her dolls. “Mama!” Her face brightens and she runs up to her with a tight embrace. “Miss Arete said you brought me those breads again!” She points to the plate of croissants sitting on the table. “They’re yummy!”

“Of course. If I can afford it, I’ll try to give you what I can.” She kisses the top of her head, then says, “Kamui, will you let Mama and Miss Arete talk please? Go share your breads with Jakob and the girls.”

She nods and grabs the plate of croissants. “I promise not to drop them like Felicia!” she shouts innocently as she walks out the door. “Gotta watch out for the rug….”

Mikoto chuckles, closing the door behind her. She walks to Arete and joins her on the couch. “You knew, didn’t you? That he’d ask me to marry him.”

Arete doesn’t hide her smile. “Yes, I did.” She rubs her thumb over the doll’s button eyes. “He’s quite smitten with you. Though that might be because of your beauty; I don’t know. Men have a hard-enough time speaking about their tender emotions without feeling emasculated, so I didn’t pry for details. Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

“No.” Mikoto stares at the spare doll next her thigh. The dress is made out of one entire fabric, just sewn together to make a ruffled skirt. “I want to believe his feelings are genuine. But I can’t forget about how poorly he handled Kamui’s treatment. I know he was doing what was best, but she still suffered. And I can’t be sure anything will change if she’s royalty.”

“I understand.” Arete takes Mikoto’s hand in hers, squeezing gently. “I thought Azura would be safer as a princess, but she was just in as much danger—even more, actually, than if she had stayed a commoner. So I had to improvise, and in the end, it all worked out.” In a serious tone, she adds, “But not without endurance and my own slew of worries every time I saw she had a new bruise, or narrowly missed death. I had to believe what I chose was the right decision. I had to remember that all of this was to place her in a better position for the inevitable future that’s to come.”

“Gods, I don’t… I don’t want that for my child. I don’t want her to worry about being assassinated or hurt at home, the place where everyone should feel the safest.”

“Nohr is a harsher environment in every sense. I thank the gods every day you found yourself in Hoshido. But nowhere is barren of consequences. You just need to learn how to adapt or avoid them.”

Arete gives her another smile. “You’ve gotten this far already. Whatever you decide to do, know I’ll support you. Maybe scold you a little along the way, but that’ll never make me stop believing in you.”

Gunter knocks on the door then, informing Arete that Sumeragi is to leave soon. She excuses herself, and Mikoto is left in solitude again. Kamui wouldn’t want for anything being a princess—like she should’ve been long ago. But so many things can go wrong anyway. People earn respect, and the castle inhabitants won’t give it to her just because of her new title.

It’s still better than living in some village with minimal protection compared to a castle. And if she does marry Sumeragi, then the council will have no choice but to agree to letting Kamui join the ambassador project with Azura. If it’s truly to be implemented for a good several years, then Kamui also won’t have to spend as much time among Hoshidan nobles that’ll never forget her dragon form.

There’s also Ikona’s hope that Mikoto would watch over her children when she’s gone. Those children need a mother, whether they’ll accept her or not. It’s better than letting servants raise them because their father is too busy with his duties.

All this she ruminates over the three days. Mikoto doesn’t go to Arete about it, feeling she must learn to make important decisions without always needing her elder sister to hold her hand. If she’s to be a queen, she must brace herself for the responsibility. Arete believes in her no matter what, and that’s all she needs.

The Hoshidan vacation home also has three stories like the Nohrian one. Out in front is a beautiful courtyard with a pond on one side, and a rock garden on the other. A bridge loops over them both to the terrace of the front door. The home is colored similarly to Shirasagi Castle in mainly red tones, but some blues and whites accentuate smaller areas of the architecture. Where the Nohrian garden has pointed juniper trees and ivy, the Hoshidan one sports clusters of bamboo and bonsais. They couldn’t be any more different, and yet they’re somehow harmonious to one another should they be painted side by side.

One of the guards escorts her to Sumeragi’s room on the third floor. Other servants are bustling about, preparing the caravan for the return trip to Hoshido. She steps out of their way, waiting by the door until Sumeragi is done instructing them.

“Milord,” the guard says, “a woman is here to see you. Mikoto is her name, she says.”

“Yes, send her in.”

With a curious glance, the guard points his naginata nonchalantly toward the door, then leaves. Mikoto waits until all the servants are out of the room, sliding the door shut. Sumeragi is already dressed in his usual armor. He never removes it for a casual outfit, except when he’s in the castle. Even then, sometimes he still wears the armor regardless.

“Leaving early?” she asks.

“Yes. I’d like to be at the Hoshidan ports by sundown so my convoy can have some time to rest. It’s about a week or so’s trip back to the capital. Not counting the days we need to make camp or stay at a town.”

“I’m glad I caught you then.” She folds her hands together, letting them fall to rest in front of her. “I’ve thought about your proposal if you wish to hear it.”

“Of course.” He escorts her to the balcony where a red cushion is laid out. It has an impression in it, and she wonders how long he spends just gazing out. She hopes he isn’t still mourning Ikona. Mikoto would feel terrible taking her place otherwise. “Please, sit. I don’t mind the floor.”

“Thank you.” She sits herself there, and he seats across from her. With an attentive stare, he gives her a nod. “For the past three days, all I could think of was your proposal. I’m afraid of making the wrong choice—not for me, but for my daughter. She’s the world to me, and I wish I could’ve chosen her life for her, one where she doesn’t have this burden of being a dragon. But I can’t, and so I need to improvise with what I have.”

Mikoto sits up straighter, staring the man in the face. “I still cannot wrap my head around why you’d want to marry an ex-whore, especially one who already has a child. But if you can promise—to the best of your ability, and I mean _all_ your absolute effort—if you can promise she’ll have a happier life as a princess, then I’ll agree to marry you.”

“Yes, I do promise,” he replies without hesitation. “She  _will_ be respected. I’ll put forth all my energy into assuring she doesn’t spend her remaining childhood years miserable.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Sumeragi smiles, a genuinely relieved and pleased smile. He looks handsome when he does so, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Thank you, Miss Mikoto. It means so much to me that you’ve accepted. It’ll take some time to get used to, but I swear to be a devoted husband, and a loving father to Kamui. Well, she may not ever see me as a father, but a guardian then. And you might never love me,” he hums amusingly, “considering my seniority, but I’ll take to you simply liking me well enough.”

Ikona had never loved Sumeragi like spouses should. But she was quite fond of him regardless, and ended up happy enough raising their children in the castle. Janus might not ever see Kamui again—no, she knows he won’t. Mikoto’s hope needs to be placed in the present now. And at one time, she did believe marrying a man like Sumeragi was the next best thing. Still is. The 30-something age difference is nothing major compared to the security Kamui can receive, and the resources Mikoto can implement to ensure it.

Sumeragi was also a dear friend back in her old life. She’d like to have that again as well.

“Time changes all things,” she replies. “While I may not love you now, I have confidence that I will in time. I still stand firm in my belief that you will continue to make human mistakes, despite your title as king. It won’t change that overall you’re a good man. You will learn from them, and only become a better person. That’s the honest truth.”

“You will make a wonderful queen.” He gently takes her hand in his. It’s a lot bigger, and warm, even through his glove. “Hoshido will be fortunate to have such a woman at the helm.”

“I’ll do my best to reign by your side.” Mikoto clasps her other hand over his. “And in turn, that is my promise to you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In canon, Arete and Mikoto are never given ages. But it's clear they were both _much_ younger than either Garon or Sumeragi when they married them. It's difficult for me to wrap my head around these women both genuinely loving much older men at their age right off the bat, perhaps because of how young I am. I don't know. So I've compromised with them marrying primarily to further their plans of defeating Anankos. They also both married when they were in their 20s.
> 
> While I don't mind significant age differences in romantic relationships, I'm not comfortable if they're not both adults. So that's another reason.
> 
> Also, this fic has reached over 1,000 hits! Thank you so much!
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	26. XXVI

Arete seems to be the only one pleased with the marriage proposal. Mikoto holds her smile and congratulations in her mind as she endures the confused glances from soldiers and the snide looks from Saizo, once they’re all told of the situation.

She rides with Sumeragi in the carriage, Kamui napping against her side. Her daughter doesn’t quite understand the arrangement yet, but she will eventually. Surely she’ll be happy being in the company of the royal children again, and Kaze.

“It will take some time for people to get used to it,” Sumeragi mentions after a while of silence on the road. “They’re just in shock.”

Mikoto is positive it’s more that the people of Hoshido are still mourning Ikona, and don’t like that a commoner will soon to take the throne.

But she tries to ignore it as best as she can. The soldiers easily adjust to calling her ‘Miss Mikoto’, or at least in front of Sumeragi. Saizo doesn’t address her by name. Maybe he’s upset about the extensive searching he had to do to find her. Thinking it was of grave importance all this time, only to find out that no, it was actually because his king wanted to marry a no-name woman.

He won’t be the last person to have conflicts about her new station. She knows once news breaks out, the castle staff will share his sentiments. Then the city at large will too, once she’s crowned.

_I’m doing this all for Kamui. That’s what matters._

They arrive in Shirasagi about a week or so later. Kamui is bouncing in her seat and pointing out all the plants and edifices she remembers, saying she’s going to find Kaze and tell him about her adventures.

When they get out of the carriage, Sumeragi instructs servants to prepare a new room for Mikoto up on the floor of the royal quarters. They ask no questions, but still give her looks before bowing to their sovereign and carrying out their tasks.

“Kamui,” Sumeragi kneels in front of her, smiling, “would you like to see Ryoma again?”

She nods rapidly. “Yes! I wanna see him! And Takumi and Orochi and Kaze!”

“Then why don’t we go look for them, hmm?”

“Okay!” Kamui tugs on Mikoto’s dress. “Can I, Mama?”

“Certainly, my sweet. Go with King Sumeragi to find your friends.”

The girl giggles happily before being swooped up by Sumeragi and placed on his shoulders. She gasps, remarking how tall she feels—like she’s flying, and laughs as he carries her into the castle. _He really does look wonderful as her father_ , Mikoto thinks with a smile.

Meanwhile Kamui is busy with her friends, Yukimura is in charge of welcoming Mikoto back to Hoshido, as well as preparing her for the new burden she’ll have to bear.

“I honestly don’t mind,” she tells him as they sit in his office. “I’m still trying to recover from the shock of the proposal.” The room is filled with shelves of scrolls, and even a few bound books. It’s neat and orderly, with a single small decorative plant at the corner of his desk. Hoshidans prefer minimalism in comparison to the Nohrian’s more lavish tastes.

“As we all are,” he says, browsing through his collection of scrolls. His blue-gray hair has gotten slightly longer, enough so now that he has it tied up in a short ponytail. She hasn’t interacted with him much since Ikona’s passing, she now realizes. “Of course, I had already known beforehand this would happen. His majesty told me himself before he left to find you.” The man dusts off a small scroll with his hand. “My, I really do need to clean this place more often. Is the dust bothering you, milady?”

“Mikoto is fine, thank you. And no, but I can open the window if you’d like.”

Windows in Hoshido rarely have glass. At most, they have a protective screen in front of it on the interior that one could roll open or closed. Like the one in Yukimura’s office. It’s made of finely crafted bamboo reeds so it’s soft and thin enough to change shape without breaking.

“You are to be queen in a short while,” the tactician mentions. “I must be appropriate and call you by your title. It shouldn’t be too hard; you’ve already got an air of regal elegance, since you first started working here, in fact.”

She smiles, tying up the screen with the attached string. “Do you really believe that?”

“I do. And you’ve worked so closely with the late Lady Ikona, I’m positive you’ll adapt to being queen in no time at all.” Yukimura gives her a genuine smile, and stuffs some scrolls in his arms. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “But I’m afraid we’ll have to catch you up on a lot. You’ll be in council meetings once you have been crowned, and in parties with other nobles, so it’s best I give you the history of our land and all related subjects. How about over tea?”

“That sounds lovely, thank you.”

Yukimura has always been polite and helpful to her, both when she was Vallite royal, and even as a peasant. Mikoto knows he may be the only friend she’ll have in the castle, at least for a while. She doesn’t expect the people to accept her so quickly (she’d be appalled; that’d mean Ikona can easily be forgotten), but she does hope they’ll give her a chance, at the very least.

She spends all afternoon in a tea room with Yukimura going over Hoshido’s history and information about the noble families of the country. Most of this she already knows from her time as royalty, and from casual chatter with Ikona. Because of it, they manage to get through the majority of everything just before dinner.

“Miss Mikoto,” a servant comes in, knocking on the door frame, “excuse me, but supper is ready. The king is expecting you at the dinner table.”

“Thank you, I’ll be right over.” She helps Yukimura clean up, regardless of his soft protests that she doesn’t need to do that sort of work anymore. “Really, it’s alright. I don’t believe in leaving messes for the staff if you can do it yourself.”

“I can already tell your amendments will focus a lot on the working class of our nation once you’re on that throne.”

“Of course. Without them, the nation would fall. We don’t want that, do we?”

By the time she gets to the dining room, Sumeragi is already there with his children. Kamui is sitting between Ryoma and Takumi, with Hinoka across from them. Sakura is finally joining their dinners, now being old enough to learn to eat with utensils.

“Please, my dear,” Sumeragi gestures to the other end of the table, “sit.”

She gives a polite bow before sitting down. A servant prepares her a bowl and a cup of tea, setting it right in front of her. Sumeragi dimisses them, and then the family is left alone. A family she’ll soon be a permanent part of.

“This smells delicious,” she says, picking up her bowl. “I can’t wait to try it.”

“Eat as much as you like; we have plenty.” He leans over slightly, smiling at her daughter. “Isn’t that right, Kamui?”

“Mm!” She nods, stuffing her face with rice, pork, and fish. The girl cleans her bowl not even ten minutes later. “Can I have more?”

Sumeragi chuckles. “Of course.”

Ryoma grins, laughing to himself, and Takumi tells her to share the mushrooms. Sakura blinks up at Mikoto as the woman helps her hold the chopsticks. Hinoka eats her food slowly, staring at the bowl. It’s Ryoma who starts up a conversation, mentioning how happy he is that Mikoto and Kamui are back. Takumi remarks he hasn’t eaten a peach since Kamui left, but now he can again and wants 50 for dessert. Sakura mumbles about wanting a peach slice, and Sumeragi tells her she can have a whole one if she can finish half of her food.

“Hinoka, would you like one?” Sumeragi asks. “We can tell the chefs to make a dessert out of peaches too, if you want.”

The girl only shrugs, not looking up at her father. She slips another clump of rice into her mouth, pushing around the carrot in her bowl. Sumeragi’s smile drops, and he asks, “What’s wrong, little bird?” He’s called her that ever since she showed interest in becoming a Pegasus Knight, back when Ikona was still alive.

“Nothing,” she mumbles. “Just not really hungry.”

“Are you certain? Your tutor tells me you’ve been training all day with the wooden naginata. It was your first lesson, so I’m sure it was exhausting.”

“I’m fine,” Hinoka says, still not looking at him.

Ryoma grunts across from her, shaking his head. “She’s mad because Kamui is back,” he says, eating more from his bowl. “And that you’re gonna get married to Miss Mikoto.”

Oh, she should’ve known.

“You dummy!” Hinoka shouts suddenly, slamming her hands on the table. “You can’t keep a secret! I told you not to tell!”

“But you’re being a grump when we’re supposed to be having a good time!”

“I was happy when  _she_ ,” Hinoka points to Kamui, “was gone! Now she’s back and she’s gonna hurt somebody again because she can’t control that monster inside!”

Kamui curls in on herself, staring down at her half-empty bowl. She eats quietly, poking at the different meats before eating them one by one. Takumi puffs his cheeks out, making a noise in between a growl and a sigh. “Hinoka you’re being a bully just like Genkei and his friends! Kamui is not a monster!”

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you _like_ Kamui,” she mocks in a hostile tease. “Are you gonna take her side over your sister, all because of a dumb crush? Why do you even have one? You’re like, 7!”

Takumi sputters, his face turning pink. “I-I-I, y-you—that’s not true! I don’t know what a crush is! I-I don’t want to ‘crush’ Kamui!”

“Orochi told you what it was last week and you said ‘yes’ when she asked you if that’s how you feel ‘cause you wouldn’t shut up about missing Kamui!”

He stares down at his lap, lip quivering. Then he sobs and begins to cry, covering his eyes with his fists. “You big stupid meanie, Hinoka!” As he wails without restraint, Ryoma starts yelling at his eldest sister, and then Sakura begins to cry because of all the noise. Kamui stays deathly silent, just staring at her bowl, still eating slowly.

Mikoto loses her appetite as servants rush into the room from the commotion, and Sumeragi delegates with his children as a stern father does.

In the end, the dinner has to be cut short. Mikoto takes whatever is left onto a tray, and carries it to her new room she shares with Kamui. Her daughter hasn’t said anything since the fight at the table. All she does is nibble on a whole peach, spitting out the skin and eating it separately.

“Hinoka didn’t mean that, sweetie,” she tries.

“Yes she did. She yelled and pointed at me. Hinoka hates me, Mama.”

“No, she’s just upset that—”

“She  _hates_ me, Mama. She doesn’t want to be my friend. I didn’t do anything to her, and she hates me. I’m still a monster….”

“Kamui,” Mikoto brings her daughter into her lap, “you are not, and will never be, a monster. You’re gifted. Hinoka is just mad at something else, but she’s angry at you because she still doesn’t know how to handle her feelings.”

“Why is she mad?”

“Because her father, the king, is going to get married.”

“To you?”

“That’s right.” Mikoto smooths out Kamui’s hair. It’s gotten longer during their stay in Notre Sagesse, and she thinks she won’t have her cut it, if only to keep hiding her ears. “Hinoka still misses her mama. And when I marry King Sumeragi, then do you know what I become?”

“The queen?”

“Yes, and also Hinoka’s new mama. Would you be happy if I was gone, and somebody told you another lady was going to be your new mama?”

“No! I love you!” Kamui lets the peach fall on the tray, opting to hug her mother instead with her sticky hands. “I don’t want another one! You’re the best mama _ever_ , in the whole universe!”

“Well, that’s how Hinoka still feels about Lady Ikona. She’s still really sad her mama is gone forever, and she feels if her papa marries me, then it’s like he’s replacing her, or doesn’t miss her anymore.”

Kamui glances up at her from beneath her bangs. “Is that true?”

“Absolutely not. Lady Ikona was my friend, one who I still miss a lot. I don’t want to replace her, and Lord Sumeragi wishes she was alive again. But by law, I’ll still be Hinoka’s new mother.”

“Law?”

“It’s means something like rules, but for a society. Can you steal, Kamui?”

She shakes her head. “That’s not nice.”

“Right. Well, that is a ‘law’ because you’ll get punished by the royals if you steal from a store, or from a farm, and things like that. Laws are just rules that have bigger punishments. Killing somebody is against the law, and your punishment is death if the king or a royal finds out. That’s the one law everyone needs to follow the most.”

“Oh, okay. I don’t wanna die.”

“Will you kill somebody?” Kamui shakes her head. “Then you don’t need to worry. If you follow the law, then everything will be fine.”

Her daughter is quiet, picking at the threads on Mikoto’s shawl. “Does Hinoka feel like she’s being punished? ‘Cause you’re gonna be her new mama?”

“She might, yes. But she’s not being punished. Except when you really love somebody, and they die, it can feel like the universe is punishing you. Sometimes you didn’t even do anything bad and you still feel like you’re being punished.”

“Poor Hinoka. The universe is mean for taking away her mama.”

Mikoto strokes her daughter’s head, giving her a kiss there. “Oh, it most certainly is, my little dragon. In more ways than one.”

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


She tries not to think about Hinoka’s outburst throughout the process of wedding planning. Kamui doesn’t bring it up again either. The girl also doesn’t mention the other elephant in the room from that day, which was Hinoka’s breach of trust against her little brother. (That was quite callous of her, in all honesty.) Though it could be because Kamui doesn’t know what a crush is. When Mikoto had asked her about that night, all Kamui remembers is Hinoka calling her a monster.

Of course. Why would she focus on anything but the scorn she receives?

Mikoto still hopes it doesn’t become a problem later down the line. While she finds it adorable that Takumi has a crush on her child at such a young age, it’ll become awkward if it continues into his adolescent stage of growth. If they even see each other as family at that point, anyway.

Hopefully it’ll die out once Kamui is sent to Notre Sagesse for seven years. They’ll both be in their late teens when she’s due to return, and by that time Takumi will find somebody else to give his affections to.

She also just wants to let her daughter experience attraction on her own, and not have guilt of any kind attached to it.

_I shouldn’t be fantasizing so far ahead about Kamui’s future as a princess, because anything can happen. But I can’t help myself._

Hinoka avoids the two of them as best she can. Mainly Kamui, though it doesn’t seem to matter. Both girls are busy with their own things. Hinoka with training, and Kamui with education alongside Takumi since they’re only a year apart. And when she’s done, she watches Ryoma train. He’s been such a big help since her first transformation into a dragon. Mikoto hopes he’ll continue to be supportive of her daughter in the future as well.

“Ah, yes,” Sumeragi begins in the throne room, as he casually dismisses a messenger to send out the wedding invitations, “as you and Kamui will now be royalty, you’ll both need retainers. I have it set up for Yuugiri and Orochi to be yours, Mikoto, if that’s alright.”

“Yuugiri and Orochi are perfect, thank you. I just hope they’ll accept me as their new liege. I know how much they loved Ikona.”

“Don’t worry; they’re excited to be given the position.” Sumeragi looks at several flowers offered to him by the botanist, all colorful or white. “I’m not good at this sort of thing,” he says, looking genuinely lost and making a distressed noise at the back of his throat. “Mikoto, which ones do you like?”

“The pink and white ones will be fine,” she says with a smile. “Arrange them however you think will best suit the summer day the wedding will be on.” The botanist nods before hurrying away. “Sumeragi, and the retainers for Kamui?”

“That I haven’t yet decided on,” he says with a regretful sigh. “None have… submitted their references, or even volunteered. In fact, people were more willing to protect you than Kamui, I’m afraid.”

“Oh. I see.”

Do they think she doesn’t need protection because she’s a dragon? Or are they afraid she might hurt them? She’s still just a child, and doesn’t even know how to properly utilize her gifts. Kamui won’t like the news when she’s told she doesn’t have a retainer. She’ll just become sad again, and ruminate on how much people hate her.

“We’ll find someone, Mikoto,” comforts Sumeragi. He places a gentle hand on her cheek, giving an encouraging smile. “I’ll make sure they’re the best fit for her.”

“Thank you.” She places her hand over his, gently taking it in her palm. “But I still can’t help feeling like you’ll be forced to choose somebody that’s only in it for the pay, and not because they actually care about her. The retainers you have, and those of your children—the way they regard and interact with you all, you can immediately tell they care on a personal level about your well-beings.”

“It will be fine, my dear.” The king gently clasps her hand between both of his own. “You’ll see.”

She doubts that when another week has passed and nobody has offered to become Kamui’s retainer. Mikoto doesn’t know how to answer her either when she asks. Ryoma should’ve never mentioned that she’ll get one now that she’ll be a royal. It’s all she talks about, excited to have a new friend. But when she asks her mother if they’ve found somebody yet, she can only say they’re still judging who’ll be the ‘greatest retainer ever’ for ‘Princess Kamui’. It always leaves a smile on the girl’s face, and worry in Mikoto’s heart.

_How do I even begin to tell her nobody wants to be her ‘friend’? She’ll be even more devastated…._

Even sitting in the garden’s gazebo doesn’t help. Usually the large pond right in front of it lifts her spirits, as do the colorful koi fish swimming about. But today, even with clear blue skies, she can’t make herself smile whenever she thinks about it too hard. Like she feared, Kamui being elevated to a princess won’t change a damn thing.

Nobody is ever going to forget the power lurking within her.

“Miss Mikoto?”

She jumps and gives a startled shout, placing a hand to her heart. To her left is little Kaze, holding his wooden kunai in his fist. “Um, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright,” she replies, once her heartbeat settles. “My, you’re turning into quite the ninja. I didn’t hear you at all, Kaze. What can I help you with?”

“Thank you.” He gives a quick polite bow. “And, um, I overheard my father talking to some friends about nobody wanting to be Kamui’s retainer. Because of the dragon thing. Is it true?”

“Yes, I’m afraid it is. I haven’t told her yet, but she keeps asking. I don’t want to see her so sad when she finds out nobody wants the job.”

Kaze stands straighter, clutching his practice weapon tightly in his fist. “I do.”

He stares up at Mikoto with a serious face. Or as serious as an 11-year-old can be. “Father doesn’t know—because he won’t let me when I asked him yesterday. But it’s not fair. Kamui can get hurt really bad and nobody wants to protect her and…,” he looks down at his feet, “I don’t want her to die. Outside of our clan, everyone treats me like a servant, even when I tell them I’m not. I’m a ninja—an assassin, and I really am trying complete all the things Father asks. I never miss a training day and I try just as hard as Saizo.”

The boy takes a pause, looking off to the side. “Kamui always tells me to do my best, and she’s never mean to me. When she plays outside, she tries to include me, and shares snacks. Sometimes she draws me pictures. She’s… a nice girl, and I hate seeing her cry and others being mean to her. It’s not her fault she got mad at that boy and hurt him. You reap what you sow.” He glances again at Mikoto, before diverting his eyes once more. “Uh, I don’t really know what that means, but I just know that bad people have bad things happen to them eventually. Like as punishment.”

“That is very true, yes.”

“So…,” he bows again, this time holding the pose, “please, I want to be her retainer. I promise I’ll protect her with my life and I’ll train even harder. I don’t want to see her sad. And I know Father is going to get mad because I went behind his back but,” his fingers shift on the handle of the kunai, “she’s my friend, Miss Mikoto. Why am I even a ninja if I can’t use my skills?”

The better question is, why didn’t she think of Kaze in the first place. Of course he’s still young and has a lot more training to complete, but in due time he’ll become an exemplary assassin, and a bodyguard. He’s kinder than his older twin; a trait he unfortunately gets scolded for, but the reason why Kamui is already comfortable being around him.

_Yes, he’s perfect._

“Are you certain?” she asks, just in case. The last thing she wants to do is give her daughter false hope, or make Kaze feel obligated. “Being a retainer means you’re the strongest of the lot, strong enough to protect royalty. You won’t just be a bodyguard, but also a servant to your liege. Didn’t you say you mind being called that? When you’ve been approved to be a retainer, you won’t just have to be skilled at combat. It also includes having to do menial tasks sometimes like drawing a bath or setting a daily outfit, and even serve food.”

“Cooking is part of our training,” he says, facing her again. “I don’t mind being a servant to Kamui, because I know she’ll never treat me like that. She’s my friend, and friends don’t treat each other like that. I know I need to be formal with her now and do things for her like wash her laundry and stuff, but… but still.”

Mikoto smiles, placing a gentle hand on his head. “Then I’ll speak with Sumeragi about it. Your father can’t say no if it’s an order from the king, right?”

Kaze smiles slightly, giving a nod.

It’s that late afternoon she brings the topic up with her soon-to-be husband. Kaze is silent by her side, ignoring the pointed glances his father is sending him.

“Milord,” Saizo the Fourth tries, “while I’m honored you’d want both of my sons to serve your household, Suzukaze isn’t what you’d want in a retainer. His abilities aren’t the problem, but his personality. He’s too gentle-hearted like his mother, and that can be dangerous in dire situations.”

“While combat skill is extremely important, you forget the primary standard of how each retainer is picked,” replies Sumeragi, crossing his arms.

“Sire….”

“Ryoma is a logical boy, and he needs retainers just as serious, hence your other son and Kagero. Setsuna has a way to go, but Hinoka has fun playing with her. Takumi is more emotional, and needs people like Hinata to reason with him. Sakura is too young still, but I can already tell she’ll need retainers who take into consideration her demure nature. Mikoto got along rather well with Yuugiri and Orochi when Ikona was still present, and so they’re accustomed to her presence and company.”

The king turns his attention to Kaze, who stands perfectly still. “Kamui wasn’t born as a noble. She needs somebody who accepts her already for who she is, and the only child left to do that is Suzukaze. Even at nearly 9, the girl is already keenly aware of the malice she receives from other people. With your younger son, however, she gets none of that; she doesn’t think about the hatred, only enjoys his companionship. His kindness isn’t a flaw, Saizo. There won’t be anyone else who is as devoted to her as he will be. Isn’t that right, my boy?”

Kaze nods. “Yes, your majesty.”

“Well, that settles it then. You’ll become her retainer-in-training.”

“Th-Thank you,” he bows, “Lord Sumeragi. I’ll do my best to protect her.”

Sumeragi smiles, giving a hum. “She’ll be overjoyed, for sure.”

But Saizo sure isn’t. He gives his son a quick glare, and Kaze stares at his feet again. No doubt he’ll get scolded later when others aren’t around. The man keeps a tight leash on his sons, and going against his wishes is a big disrespect.

It’s true though that Kamui is beyond euphoric. When she’s called into the throne room and told of the news, she rushes forward and leaps at Kaze, tackling him to the floor in a hug. She laughs, “Yay, you’re my retainer!” nuzzling her cheek against his chest. Kaze blinks in surprise at first. When she smiles up at him, he laughs softly, replying, “Yes, I’m your retainer now. I’ll protect you, okay?”

“Okay! You can do it, Kaze!” and then she nuzzles her face against him again.

Mikoto is able to sleep soundly that night.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


The wedding is held in the summer with the coronation to take place the day immediately after. Just a week before Kamui’s birthday. Nobles from both Hoshido and Nohr are invited, including Garon and Arete.

As the honored guests, they’re seated at the front of the large ceremony held at the temple. Kamui is supervised by Orochi in the front row so she doesn’t let her excitement overwhelm her. Though she’s more preoccupied with her fancy kimono more than anything else. Hopefully she’ll get used to the heavier, more constricted clothing before next year.

Mikoto can’t help the bubbling warmth in her chest as she makes her vows. Janus will always be the man she still wishes to marry, but Sumeragi also promises a bright and happy future as her spouse. Being royalty once again is the real reason she’s so elated. After this, she and Arete can finally begin planning to overthrow Anankos.

Once his threat has been eradicated, she’d like to rebuild Valla from the ground up. She’ll definitely need assistance from both Hoshido and Nohr to do it.

For now though, the people are smiling. It could be because of food vendors all along the streets, and the booze in their systems. She’s sure by tomorrow they’ll remember Ikona is still gone, and a new queen is filling her seat at the helm of Hoshidan society.

“Don’t worry so much about it,” Arete tells her in private later that evening. They’re sharing the gazebo out in the garden, watching the fireflies. Nearby Yuugiri stands guard, as does Gunter. “Mikoto, you’ll become a great queen.” She leans in to whisper, “You’ve had plenty of practice.”

“I know. It’s not me I’m truly worried about, but Kamui.”

“Ah, of course.” Arete sits back in her seat, folding her hands on her lap. The lantern from above casts a warm glow on her face. “How is she taking to her new station?”

Mikoto smiles, shaking her head. “I don’t think she understands just yet that she’s a princess now. She still acts like a ‘commoner’. I’ve already overheard some servants say she’s not suitable for royalty because of it.”

“Bah, let them gossip. Kamui will learn etiquette for seven years. And when she returns, they’ll have to shut their mouths.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Mikoto twiddles her thumbs as she looks out to the pond. The frogs croaking and the cicadas buzzing settle a summer’s serenity onto the garden. “Arete, there is something that concerns me.”

“Is it Hinoka never accepting you as her step-mother?”

“Not really; I don’t expect her to ever accept me, actually. But it’s along a similar topic. That night she made her feelings clear, she said something about Takmui that has me both intrigued and mildly concerned.”

“What was it?”

“Mm, how can I put this?” She taps her chin with a pointer finger. “Well, I worry about his own feelings. Hinoka mentioned he has a crush on Kamui—that Orochi told him about it because he didn’t understand why he missed her so much.”

“That’s adorable. He’s what, 8?”

“In December he will be. And I thought it was adorable too, at first, until I realized that it might be an issue when he’s older, as in a teenager. For obvious reasons. It wouldn’t be a problem if Kamui was still a commoner.”

“Oh. _Oh_ , I see.” Arete thins her lips, staring out at the tiny cosmos painted by the fireflies over the pitch-black pond. “I suppose it would be bad if people started accusing Kamui of causing sin within the household. But from what I’ve heard tonight, I also believe nobody is ever going to forget she’s not ‘real’ royalty. Honestly, I’m not quite sure what would happen in such a situation.”

“My hope is that in those seven years, Takumi will crush on somebody else. Had things been different, I’d be elated he’d want to court my daughter. I mean, in a strange way, I still am. But, well, you know.”

Arete nods. “If it makes you feel better, she still has both Xander or Leo as potential husbands. Should you decide to marry her into the Nohrian royal family, of course. But Garon might wish for Xander to wed Hinoka, as she’s the eldest daughter. Or he could marry Camilla to Ryoma for all I know. It’s something we haven’t discussed yet. He’s much more focused on sharpening Xander for his eventual title as king rather than thinking about a future wife for him.”

“Xander is adorable in his own way,” Mikoto compliments. “He’s sort of gangly right now, isn’t he? It’s precious.” The boy is Ryoma’s age, but he isn’t growing into his body like the latter. Maybe that’s why he’s been hiding the entire reception, sticking to the wall like red bean paste. Mikoto has heard more than one comment by invited nobles about how ‘unfortunate’ Xander has become in looks.

“Yes. He’ll be a late bloomer for sure.” Arete crosses her arms, huffing. “Katerina was beautiful, and Garon was quite handsome when he was young. That boy will be exceedingly attractive as an adult, so much so that all his doubters will kiss my rear for a chance to marry their daughters to him, just you wait. And I will turn them all down, reminding them of their misguided comments. Hell, I might even marry him to a peasant just to wipe those fake smiles off their painted faces.”

Arete overheard those nobles too, apparently. Loud and clear.

Laughter finds its way to her lips. “You really do take your role as his step-mother seriously.”

“Of course. He’s my son, even if I didn’t agonizingly push him through my dreaded hips as a baby. For Katerina’s sake, I’ll continue to raise him into a fine young man, one Nohr—and his father, can be proud of.”

“I’ll do my best for Ryoma too.”

“I know you will.”

She spends another hour in her sister’s company until their retainers inform them they need to head back to the castle. It’s the first night Mikoto spends in her new quarters with Sumeragi. And while she isn’t particularly excited for what’s to come once they’re alone, she tries to enjoy it as best as she can.

Arete had mentioned earlier she had to fake her pleasure with Garon when it first happened. “You’ll get used to it after the first few times,” she had ended with a tired sigh. Mikoto does try to fake it when she lays with Sumeragi that night, but it’s still rather difficult considering he’s not the man she loves. Pretending he’s Janus makes the experience enjoyable enough that she doesn’t have to feign much of her pleasure.

In addition to the fact she’s supposed to be ‘used’ to it a hundred times over, considering her fabricated history as a whore. But Sumeragi never comments on that, thank the gods.

She does sleep soundly in his arms afterward. Although that could be because his compliments and tender caresses soothed her into a calm. Or the large dinner she had. Either way, she’s able to sleep without disturbance.

When she wakes up the next morning, Sumeragi is gone, likely having left before dawn. He’s an early riser. But Yuugiri is already there to greet her with the outfit for the coronation. It’s elaborately stitched with floral patterns into the silk, the garments in varying colors of white, red, blue, and gold, with even a few green accents.

“How is Kamui doing in her new room?” Mikoto asks.

“Ah, well…,” Yuugiri tries to smile, “Hinoka isn’t too pleased having to share. I tried to explain it’s because she’s closer in age than Kamui is to Sakura. Once your daughter is old enough, she’ll get her own room. This castle certainly has plenty.”

She’s quiet the whole time Yuugiri draws her bath and then helps her dress. It’s a long arduous process, and Mikoto will never get used to wearing so many layers of clothing. Her retainer mentions it’s only for one day, and after that she can dress more comfortably in a yukata for the remainder of her days. “If you’re not attending to the weekly community hearings, of course. Both you and his majesty need to be decently dressed when in the throne room.”

The elder woman mentions Kamui is getting dressed with Orochi’s help since Kaze is still too young to properly do it himself. “I’m surprised you picked a boy to become her retainer, milady.”

“Is that strange?”

“No, it’s just common for a noble’s first retainer to be of the same sex. For the dressing and bathing purposes, specifically. Lord Ryoma’s first retainer was Saizo the Fifth, Setsuna is Lady Hinoka’s, Hinata is Lord Takumi’s, and Lady Sakura’s first retainer will no doubt follow the same pattern.”

“Kamui is different in the fact nobody was enthusiastic about wanting the job, or wanting their children to train for it. Kaze was the first person—the _only_ person, who genuinely did. I couldn’t say no.”

“Oh, yes of course. My apologies, milady. I had forgotten.”

“It’s fine, really.” She gives Yuugiri a tired smile. “I’ve accepted that the opinions about my daughter from the castle residents and nobles might not ever change. But having Kaze in her constant company will hopefully lift her spirits whenever she doubts her existence.”

They talk no more of it after that. Mikoto is escorted to the ground floor and into a carriage, along with Kamui, Sumeragi, and his children. The problem with Shirasagi Castle is that it’s on a tall hill that overlooks the city. Most of the flat ground was spent for training areas for the soldiers, the lavish garden, Pegasi stables and Kinshi roosts, and extra residency for the staff. That leaves little room for an entrance, unless one counts the long winding staircase. It’s not an adequate place for citizens to gather.

Instead, they go down to the marketplace’s center where the Dawn Dragon has a statue erected in her honor. The pristine white stone glistens in the sunlight, and the orb (or egg, as some like to call it) she holds is actually coated with lacquer created from pearls. That’s where most ceremonies are held for the Hoshidan royal family, like today. It’s said the real reason is that the first king of Hoshido wanted her to watch over his bloodline and bless it with wisdom and good fortune.

A temporary dais has been constructed at the base of the sculpture. In front of it are rows of seats for the nobles to sit. Soldiers guard the area in a circle, keeping the citizens watching from outside of it. While she doubts anything will happen, Sumeragi wants to take all necessary precautions. Kinshi and Pegasus Knights fly overhead, with some ninja hiding in the shadows.

Hoshido is much safer than Nohr, but like Arete had said, there will never be a place guaranteed to be completely free of danger.

Kamui keeps asking her questions as they stand on the dais surrounded by flowers, elaborately placed silks, and golden decorations.

“Mama, I’m hungry,” she whispers.

“I know, sweetie. But we’ll eat when this is over. For now, try to be as quiet as you can for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

The diviner from the temple yesterday makes a speech about the coronation, praying to the gods to bless Mikoto’s rule and Kamui’s new station. Both of them are seated on the dais. Two shrine maidens are standing nearby, each at the ready to crown them.

Once the diviner has finished blessing them, the two young girls set the crowns on their heads. Mikoto’s is fashioned like a rising shining sun, gold shimmering in the morning light. Kamui’s is much more modest, being a simple gold headpiece with ornaments carved into the shape of sakura flowers.

When all the blessings have been finished, Mikoto is asked to speak.

“People of Hoshido, thank you all for coming today,” she starts. Out in the crowd, all eyes are trained on her. It’s been so long since she’s had to speak like this in front of so many people. “You might all be surprised this is happening. And truthfully, so am I. But I’m also honored for the extraordinary fortune that I’ve been blessed with. Queen Ikona may be gone, but her memory will forever stay emblazoned in our minds. I still miss her, and I don’t think I can compare to who she was during her reign. But I’ll do my absolute best to make her proud. I ask that she bless me with her wisdom and grace, and I pray that I’ll be even half as wonderful of a royal as she was. It’s with great hope that I’ll also make the citizens of Hoshido proud of their new queen. I’ll do my absolute best to ensure this kingdom continues to thrive, like it has been for many generations.”

She gives a bow. “I am honored to be your sovereign, and I hope one day I will be worthy of your trust and respect. Thank you.”

Nobody reacts, until Arete stands. She gives a nod and daintily begins clapping. “Know that the crown of Nohr will support your efforts, Lady Mikoto.” Garon is slow to rise, but once he gets on his feet, he joins his wife in clapping. Xander follows his father’s lead, and then Gunter joins in.

With a smile, Sumeragi follows their example, as does a beaming Ryoma. Then gradually, the rest of the nobles and citizens clap until it’s thunderous applause. Not all of them are smiling, but the ones who are melt her heart. Mikoto smiles back at them, bowing again in gratitude. Kamui giggles and claps vigorously beside her.

“Yay Mama! That was a nice speech! You did it!”

“I did, didn’t I?”

Sumeragi walks onto the dais and adds to her words, asking the Dawn Dragon to bless Mikoto’s reign. He says a few more formalities before defining the rest of the day to celebrations all throughout the city. The crowd cheers, and then begins to disperse to partake in the festivities.

The royal family has an elaborate tent constructed for them to rest in for the day. It remains below the statue of the Dawn Dragon as a sign of protection. Both Hoshidan and Nohrian soldiers on duty stand guard or lounge about there too.

“That was certainly a lovely speech,” Arete says, as she and Garon sit across from Mikoto and Sumeragi in the tent. “I’m excited for you, Lady Mikoto.”

“Oh, thank you so much, Lady Arete. It really does mean a lot to me.”

“So,” Garon clears his throat, thanking a servant for pouring him more sake, “Queen Mikoto, I will be expecting your visits to Nohr, yes?”

“Certainly. Sumeragi can’t be leaving so often, so I’ll be the one for overseas negotiations.”

“Excellent. Speaking of which, I gather serious talk of the arrangements for the ambassador program will begin shortly. And by shortly, I mean tomorrow.” He takes a sip from his cup. “I’d rather not speak of business today.”

“You’re still the same as ever, Garon.” Sumeragi laughs, patting the other man on the arm. “Festivities before duty?”

“If there isn’t a bit of relaxation to lessen the exhaustion, you’ll be in poor mind to handle duties efficiently.”

“He always has an excuse to revel in a party,” Arete says. “But just this once, I’ll let him slide.” Garon gives a grunt, almost smiling. He takes her hand, kissing the top of it.

They talk for a good two hours before pairing off to wander the marketplace. Garon stays with Sumeragi while Arete walks with Mikoto. It’s nearly evening, and shopkeepers begin to light their lanterns. Music continues to flow throughout the streets, and nothing but the smell of good food is in the air. Gunter stays close behind to his liege, and Yuugiri does the same. Mikoto gave Orochi the night off. A young girl deserves to enjoy her youth, even as a retainer.

“Are you worried about Kamui being alone?” Arete asks as they take a seat outside a restaurant. It’s smartly placed near a pond with a miniature waterfall running over a short cliff made of cut stone.

“Kaze is with her. His father said he won’t learn to protect her if he doesn’t start early.”

“That man is harsh on a boy of just 11.”

“He has a big role to play now. But I do wish he’d be allowed to be a child too.”

As they’re being served a steaming hot meal, Mikoto gets a tap on her back. Her eyes widen when she finds Kiyo and Daichi standing there, Mozu sitting on his shoulders.

“Oh!” She rises to stand, bringing in Kiyo for a hug. “You came!”

Kiyo hugs her back tightly. “Sure did! We wouldn’t miss it for the world, ‘Koto! Been here since this morning! But there was such a crowd, we couldn’t get a good enough place for the viewing. And it already sucked that we missed your wedding by a day, so I was pretty pissed.”

“She insisted we find you before we even eat,” Daichi mentions with a grunt. “Haven’t had anything since breakfast.”

“I’m sorry. Would you like to sit with us?”

“Milady,” Yuugiri starts, “is that wise?”

“They’re old friends. It’s fine.”

The woman gives a nod, but never takes her eyes off of Kiyo or Daichi. They have a pleasant conversation, asking Arete a lot about life in Nohr. They get really lively when Mikoto mentions to them she’s paying for their dinner, so they can order whatever they want, of any quantity. Arete laughs at the looks on their faces, but they soon gratefully thank her and accept.

Delicious food, a clear starlight night, her sister laughing beside her, and friends gathered around to celebrate her accomplishments. It’s almost too good to be true, but it is a reality, and one Mikoto will cherish for the rest of her life.

Yet she can never quite escape the threat of danger, the one thing she had forgotten throughout the mist of euphoria caused by the sake and company of the people precious to her.

Reality knocks her upside the head once she returns to the tent after having escorted Kiyo and Daichi to their inn. Sumeragi is there seated with Garon. Xander is in a corner, and as politely as possible, trying to avoid Ryoma’s offers to arm wrestle. “You’re always like this whenever we see each other,” she overhears Xander say in Midway. “Why do you always want to fight me, Prince Ryoma?” Takumi is asleep on a pillow at the other end of the tent, and Sakura was taken back to the castle earlier.

“Kamui and Hinoka should be here soon,” Sumeragi says, removing his helmet. “I had them wander together as to better build a sisterly bond.”

“I don’t think it’ll be that easy, my love.” Mikoto takes her seat next to him on a cushion. “But I do appreciate the effort of speeding up the process.”

“She’ll come around with time. Ikona didn’t raise our children to hold grudges.”

When too much time has passed without any sign of the girls, Sumeragi has some soldiers search for them. But not a minute later does Hinoka stumble into the tent, weeping and sobbing. Her clothes are dirty, and her long hair tussled.

“Hinoka what happened?” Sumeragi runs to her, and she buries her face in her father’s stomach. “What’s wrong? Where is Kamui?”

She shakes her head, trying to speak, but the words are jumbled by her wailing and sobs. Sumeragi has her sit down until she’s well enough to talk. Hinoka rubs at her eyes, sniffing away the snot dripping from her nose.

“I’m sorry, Father!” she cries. “I tried—but they were too fast and strong and we were surprised and it was my fault ‘cause I yelled at her and ran off and then I didn’t know what was h-happening—”

“Where is Kamui?” Mikoto asks, kneeling beside her. With trembling hands and panic encroaching her heart, she places a palm on Hinoka’s dirty cheek. “Please, tell me. Tell me where my daughter is.”

Hinoka shakes her head. “I’m s-sorry Miss Mikoto. I-I don’t hate her so much that I w-wanted those men to steal her. A-And she s-saved me and Kaze tried to fight them ‘cause Setsuna lost her weapon a-and Kaze got hurt so he couldn’t move and…”

“Which men? What did they look like?! Please, Hinoka!”

But the girl can only continue to cry as Sumeragi instructs Saizo and his ninja to search for Kaze as well as any suspicious characters. He also orders soldiers to inform the guards at the border of the city to close the gates so nobody can leave.

Of course this would happen. With the string of bad fortune in her life so far, Mikoto shouldn’t have expected anything less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's said in the canon that Hoshidans didn't immediately accept Mikoto as the new queen. It took _a lot_ of effort on Ryoma's part to help convince them to accept her, considering he was one of the first--and one of the few--to genuinely like her. I figured that hard won acceptance also extends to the royal family. Like Hinoka.
> 
> I had an interesting time writing her in part 1. Read somewhere that she was actually added to FE14 last minute. Kagero was originally supposed to be part of the Hoshidan siblings, but then became Ryoma's retainer instead, and so Hinoka was added in her place. It's why she has the least amount of focus in the whole game out of both royal families. (Like, she's hardly in any cinematic cutscenes that aren't her solo one or the ending ones. Lol) So I wanted to give Hinoka more spotlight in part 1, as I refuse to believe it was so easy for all of Sumeragi's children to immediately accept Mikoto as their step-mother.
> 
> Next chapter is also kinda long like this one, but it'll be worth the read, I promise.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	27. XXVII

It’s his first real assignment from his father. More importantly, from King Sumeragi himself. He’s a little nervous, but determined nonetheless to prove he can do this job.

Kaze has been appointed as Kamui’s retainer. He has to call her ‘Lady Kamui’ since she’s a princess now, but she tells him it sounds weird and asks he not do that. Like he thought, she doesn’t treat him any different. Kamui still shares her food with him and wants to play as if she was still a commoner. But from what he’s seen, none of the royal children treat their retainers like servants. Or maybe they’re all still too young to think that way.

He’s not sure how much his opinion matters. Ninja are trained to kill and be silent, not have personal ‘opinions’. But if he had one, he’d want to tell King Sumeragi it doesn’t seem like a good idea to make Hinoka walk around with Kamui in her company.

Setsuna is also there as she’s going to be Hinoka’s retainer eventually. But she’s… well, she’s a nice girl. Just not very attentive of her surroundings. He hopes that goes away when they’re older.

“You need to be careful, Setsuna!” Hinoka helps her friend to her feet after Setsuna had tripped on a rock and then crashed into a pile of rice flour sacks. “You’re gonna get yourself killed!”

This wouldn’t normally be a problem. Except it’s the fifth time this evening she’s had an accident.

“Oh, I’m sorry Lady Hinoka,” she says in that dream-like state of voice she has. Setsuna giggles, “You have a lot of flour on you,” apparently not noticing she’s covered in the stuff herself, dirtying her kimono and long, straight teal hair.

The princess grunts, dusting herself off. Kamui points to the ruined sack of flour. “What if rats get in there? Should we tell the shop lady?”

Hinoka ignores her, giving an angry glance instead. Kamui frowns, but smiles again when she sees a vendor stall with a fish game. “Hinoka, do you wanna go play and see the fish?” Kaze never understood those. The tiny fish don’t last more than a few days in captivity, but he supposes nobody really cares if money can be made off of it.

“No I don’t wanna go play,” she retorts.

“I’ll go with you, Lady Kamui,” offers Kaze.

She looks at her new step-sister, then stares at her feet. “No, it’s okay Kaze….”

They keep walking throughout the crowded streets. Nobody seems to pay any mind to the girls’ elaborate kimonos or even the golden sakura clip in Kamui’s hair. Then again, many are dressed in whatever of the finest clothes they can afford. It’s not every day a new queen is crowned.

When they get to a vendor selling takoyaki, Kamui tugs on Kaze’s sleeve. “I want one. Can I have one?”

“Yes, if you’d like, Lady Kamui.”

Puffing out her cheeks, she replies, “Nooo, I told you don’t call me that! I like ‘Kamui’!”

He smiles, taking out a small pouch of coins that Lady Mikoto gave him to buy Kamui things. “But I have to now. It’s the rules.”

“Oh, well then okay, I guess. I don’t want you to get in trouble. Mama says people get punished if they don’t follow the law, and I don’t want you to get punished, Kaze.”

“Thank you, milady.”

She makes him buy one for himself because she wants him to eat the same snacks she does. Kamui offers another portion to Setsuna. The girl happily takes it and hums as she plops it in her mouth. “These are sooo good.”

“Yeah!” Kamui eats another one, smiling at Setsuna as they both hum about how delicious the treat is.

Hinoka is standing off to the side with her arms crossed. She shakes her head and scoffs. When she spots Kaze staring, she asks him, “Why do you care about her so much?”

“It’s my job to care,” he replies neutrally.

“No I mean, why do you care at all?”

That is an easy question to answer. If anything happens to Kamui and she dies, the only one who’ll truly mourn her would be Lady Mikoto. Ryoma would move on without a problem because he’d be very busy with his crown prince duties as he grows. And Takumi might forget her altogether since he’s still so young, or at least young enough that it won’t bother him when he’s older. Yuugiri and Orochi are more like her nannies, too.

Should Kamui’s spirit ever watch over them, she’ll see nobody really gave a care in the world about the fact that she existed at all, except her mother. Spending an eternity realizing you meant nothing to anyone, feeling like you were better off dead in the first place, well, that’s not something a spirit of a child should have to feel in the forever after. They’ll never rest in peace, and will be cursed to wander the earth forever out of sadness.

His mother told him that once when he talked about Kamui, and he believes it. He wouldn’t want to live an eternity like that either.

But he’s sure Hinoka wouldn’t care if he explains it that way.

“Well, because she’s my friend,” Kaze says simply.

The girl only scoffs again, shaking her head at him. Her attention is drawn to Kamui when the smaller princess offers her the stick of takoyaki. “You want some, ‘Noka? They’re yummy.”

“Don’t call me that. My name is _Hinoka_ , so get used to it.”

“I-I’m sorry.” Kamui bites her lip, holding the stick close to herself. “Um, well do you wanna eat anything? Mama gave me some of her money and—”

“No, it’s not _her_ money. It’s my father’s.”

“But… But Mister Sumeragi said… no, or my new papa said—”

Hinoka’s lip curls. “Call him _King_ Sumeragi because that’s who he is! And he’s not your papa, and never will be! You aren’t a part of our family, so stop trying so hard!”

Kamui’s eyes glisten with the threat of tears, and Kaze glances around for something to distract her with. But it means nothing when she tries again to offer the takoyaki to Hinoka, only to have it slapped out of her hand.

“You’re _never_ gonna be my sister!” she yells at the younger girl. “You hear me?! You’re annoying and weird and just stop! Leave me _alone!_ ”

She runs off after that. Kamui calls after her, following, and both Setsuna and Kaze have no choice but to chase them as well. Unfortunately, the princesses are quick, Hinoka more than Kamui. Kaze nearly loses them, having to drag Setsuna behind him because otherwise she’ll get into yet another accident. They just don’t have the time right now to help her if she does. She already lost her yumi and quiver of arrows during her second accident of the evening.

Hinoka shouts something at Kamui, but it doesn’t stop the younger girl from continuing the chase. Kaze follows them at a turn of a sharp corner into an alleyway. Hinoka has her hands on her knees, panting, but Kamui isn’t out of breath at all.

“I said leave me alone!” she shouts again.

“B-But I wanna be your friend,” Kamui sobs. Tears slowly drip down her cheeks. “Do you hate me, Hinoka?”

“ _Yes_ , I do, okay?! Are you happy?!”

“Lady Hinoka,” Kaze tries, “that's not very nice to—”

“None of your beeswax, Kaze!” Fire burns in her eyes as she approaches Kamui, poking her in the chest. “It’s _your_ fault that my mother died! If you weren’t a stupid dragon and didn’t transform and make your mama stop learning better medicine just to come back and help you, she could’ve saved my mother!”

Hinoka swallows, and begins crying, though Kaze isn’t sure if she’s even aware of it with how unrelenting she is in her yelling. “It’s all your _fault_ , Kamui! You made everyone pay attention to you that nobody was paying enough attention to my mother and she died because of it! Why do you get rewarded for that?! Why do you get to be a princess now?! You’re not, okay?! You were born a peasant and that’s what you’ll always be! This—,” she snatches the golden sakura clip from Kamui’s hair, “you don’t deserve this!” Hinoka throws it against a crate, stomping her foot. “You’re always gonna be a monster, and never a princess, and definitely _never_ my sister!”

Kamui starts to bawl, covering her face with her hands, saying over and over that she’s sorry, that she didn’t want Ikona to die, that if she could, she’d bring her back to life. Kaze goes to embrace her and she clings to him, crying into his chest. It’s the only way he knows how to comfort her right now. Setsuna tries to tell Hinoka to calm down and to not be sad, but only gets yelled at to shut up.

Extra footsteps join them in the alleyway just then.

Both sides of this particular alleyway are open as it’s a shortcut to the next street. Four grinning men are blocking the two exits. Kaze draws his weapon, standing in front of Kamui. Setsuna just blinks up at the strangers.

“What do we have here?” one chuckles. “Why, it’s the princesses.”

Hinoka stops crying, instead inching closer to Setsuna. Kamui sniffles, clinging to the back of Kaze’s vest with a hand and hiding further behind him.

“Now sisters shouldn’t fight,” a second man says. “But how ‘bout this? We’ll take you both on a little trip so you can spend some alone time and make nice, okay?”

Kamui shakes her head. “No, you’re a bad man, like the ones that don’t follow the law.”

“I’m not a bad man, sweetheart.”

“Yeah you are, ‘cause you’re ugly. And ugly things are bad.”

“Why you little—,” he nods to his friends and they dive in to grab Hinoka. Another pushes Setsuna away causing her to trip backward and slam against a water barrel. She moans and holds her head.

Kaze moves in between the four men, slashing at their legs with his kunai. He’s not allowed to have a metal one yet, but a sharpened wooden one will do the job just fine too. A pair of the men try to smack him around, but he dodges and stabs his kunai in one of their thighs, taking out another from his vest and twirling it around his finger from the handle loop. He jumps off a crate and lands on the third man’s shoulders, slicing him across the bridge of his nose, then leaps off and slams his foot in the head of the fourth’s, knocking him backward.

He’s a lot faster than Saizo—the one thing he beats him at when it comes to being a ninja. But speed means nothing when there are too many foes, and he hasn’t trained extensively yet to cover his blind spot. That’s the skill he doesn’t have that his brother has mastered already.

The second man grabs his leg when he’s trying to land, and then throws him onto the ground. The first man attacks him next, giving him a whack over the head with a stick. His head throbs, and a stinging pain pulses at the back. Another blow is landed on his legs, and then he’s kicked in the stomach. Kaze coughs, reaching for his pouch of needles. He stabs one of the men in the toe with it—might be the second one; he’s not sure—causing him to cry out. It’s laced with poison, so if it doesn’t kill him now, it will eventually.

Kamui yells, “No, Kaze!” and then her mouth is covered with a cloth as another man grabs Hinoka who’s kicking in the air. Kaze wobbles as he tries to stand, but the same man whacks him again, grumbling, “I hate ninja and their fucking tricks,” before kicking him a final time.

Blood trickles at the corner of Kaze’s head. He gets to his knees, and falls on his palms. His side really hurts, and Setsuna is out cold. In the distance, the men limp away quickly with the two princesses.

With tears running anew, Kamui reaches toward him, her eyes wide with fear. He thinks he hears her crying out, “No! Kaze help! Please help me!” but her mouth is blocked by the cloth and the hand from the first man.

“L… Lady K-Kamui… n-no….,” and then he falls, gritting his teeth.

_I’ve failed._

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


The bad men tie them up and throw them in a cart. But it’s covered by a shield made of cloth, like a ceiling. There’s cages with chickens in them. Really fluffy cute ones. The feathers on their heads cover their eyes, and they remind her of Takumi’s hair. It looks like a fluffy chicken’s.

Hinoka is crying in a corner. She looks really scared, and Kamui is scared too. Those bad men hurt Setsuna and beat up Kaze and he was bleeding a lot from his head. What if they do that to Hinoka too? She doesn’t want Hinoka to be bloody and hurt.

Kamui can’t get free of the ropes, though. But her teeth are sharp, like a monster’s. So she bites down on the rope, like she saw a mouse do to a piece of carrot back in the castle. The other piece of the vegetable fell off because of it. The rope becomes loose, and she wiggles out of it. Hinoka watches her, still crying, but quieter.

“Wh-What are you doing?” she asks.

“Those bad men hurt Kaze and Setsuna!” Kamui nibbles on the rope until it snaps. “What if they die? No, no they’re our friends—they can’t die! So we need to escape!”

She takes Hinoka’s hand and pulls her to the exit of the cart, but then one of those bad men spots them trying to leave. “Hey! How’d you brats get loose?! C’mere!”

“No!” growls Kamui. “Leave us alone!” She jumps at the man, biting him in the arm. He yells, and Hinoka hops out of the cart. The second man tries to grab her again, but Kamui jumps on his back, and bites him there. He also yells and says some curse words that Jakob likes to use a lot. Kamui knows because her mama told her the bad words in Hoshidan so she doesn’t say them too like he does.

The third man grabs her and she kicks, yelling, “Run, Hinoka! Go help Kaze and get Papa and Ryoma!”

But when she starts running away, the last bad man catches her. He pulls at Hinoka’s long red hair, jerking her backward, and Kamui wishes she could scratch his face because he’s making her cry again. The man holding her shouts and drops her, but she doesn’t know why until she sees her arm. It looks a lot like the dragon arm, but bigger and fatter, and so she runs toward him and scratches him in the stomach because she can’t reach his face. He’s bleeding more than that bully did.

Kamui runs at the man who has Hinoka, and jumps on him, scratching his face. He covers his eyes, screaming, and Hinoka runs away, disappearing into an alley and around a building.

As she tries to follow, two of them men grab her and one hits her over the head with something heavy, and then she goes to sleep, even though she’s not tired.

When she wakes up, the cart is moving, and she has more ropes tied around her. A cloth is also over her mouth, and it’s so tight that she can’t nibble on it like earlier. Sacks of rice flour are around her, and on top is a blanket. She hears the two men talking to some people, “Alright, have a safe passage. Dunno why you’d wanna go back on your route today though. Still a lot of partying to do in the city.”

“Gotta get back to work, y’know?”

And then the horse neighs, and it gets quiet. She can hear the cicadas buzzing and the wheels of the cart turning over the dirt and over rocks. The men are talking, but they’re too quiet that she can’t make out what they’re saying.

Her head still hurts, so she falls asleep again.

The next time she wakes up, it’s colder. Not like in winter, but the air feels and smells fresh. Like if it snows there a lot when it is. The chickens are clucking, and then the cart jiggles and stops. Footsteps come closer, and the first man’s face appears once the blanket is gone. “Oh, you’re awake. Knocked out for a few days. Thought you might’ve died or something. We were gonna just dump you somewhere.”

Kamui tries to yell, but hardly any sound comes out because of the thick cloth. The man laughs, picking her up by the collar of her kimono. He stares at her weird arm, and then pushes her hair away to the side to stare at her ears. “Huh.”

She’s taken outside where the rest of the men are sitting near a campfire. But there are only two others this time instead of three. The first man drops her on the ground, and she gets dirt in her face.

“You’re not a normal human, are you?” he asks, sitting down. “That arm of yours—when you slashed our buddy across the face, you got his eyes. Like, blinded him; he couldn’t see anymore. And we have no healing rods or money to pay a healer to fix him. Would’ve been dead weight, and we’ve got no use for a blind man. Guy had to go.” His pointer finger glides across his throat, but she doesn’t know what that means.

“We still taking her to the whore house like we promised that bastard?” the second guy says, the other one she slashed in the stomach. He has a lot of bandages around him, and he winces. “Tell me we’re close, ‘cause I dunno if I’ll live to see tomorrow.”

“Sucks to be you; still another day. But we’ll take your share. Sure to be a lot more, considering we nabbed a princess. That should pay off our debt.”

“Eh, is she really though?” the last man asks. He looks at her like she smells, and his face is sorta green for some reason. He’s sweating. “I mean, that Mikoto lady was a peasant, or something. Right? This kid doesn’t look anything like the king either. Think he felt bad?”

“Maybe he just wanted to fuck this girl’s mom without it tainting his oh so kingly grace. Lady’s got a nice rack too, so I wouldn’t blame him. But, I’m thinking we bargain with Boss, ‘cause he sure as hell ain’t gonna want damaged goods. Not with that arm.”

The man picks her up again, moving her hair out of the way. “Look at this, her ears. And if you stare closely, her eyes have slits in ‘em instead of the round pupils, kinda like a lizard’s. Those teeth are a real pain too.”

“You think she might be a kitsune?”

“Whatever she is, she’s definitely worth a lot more now.” He laughs, grabbing her face. It hurts because his fingers are digging into her jaw and cheeks. “Y’hear that, princess? You’re gonna make us filthy rich. It’s only fair. I mean, your mom was a nobody, and now she’s royalty? Why do you get special treatment when you’re just a peasant like us? You gotta pay back society now. Never gonna see that Hinoka girl again, at least.”

Kamui whines, thrashing, but the ropes hurt her skin. The bandaged man laughs, taking a drink from a cup. It smells really strong, like that stuff all the adults had in the city during the party. ‘Sake’, she thinks it’s called. “Get used to it, kiddo. Say bye-bye to all your luxury and fancy clothes and your castle, and especially your mother. ‘Cause you’re never gonna see them again, ever.”

Her mama must really miss her by now. What if she’s crying? What if she can never find Kamui? What if she dies because she’s really sad? And what if her mama thinks _she_ is dead? Then she’ll become like Hinoka and blame Hinoka for not helping, and it’s not Hinoka’s fault because it was these men. They weren’t following the law.

“Think we should’ve taken that other girl?” the second man asks. “The one with the teal hair.” 

“Nah, she seemed a little spacey. She’s a noble, I think, but definitely not worth as much as the royal family. I dunno if that Hinoka brat will remember our faces.”

“Should’ve killed the ninja boy,” says the bandaged man. “Y’know, make sure he won’t cause us problems later. He was a pain in the ass to fight.”

“That little shit poisoned me too, I’m sure.” The man with the green face looks sicker than he did a few seconds ago. “Haven’t stopped puking since we left the city.”

“Maybe the kid will die soon,” the first man replies, laughing. “Bleed out probably, or if we’re lucky, a broken rib punctured his lung.”

_Kaze… is dead?_

She tries to scream, ‘No!’ thrashing in her bind of ropes. The men only laugh harder, teasing about how they should’ve killed Kaze, that they wanted to smash his face with their feet, and kick him some more, or cut him with a dagger, hoping that he dies because he’s a ‘useless ninja’.

“Aww, look how mad she is, guys.” The first bad man grins, and his teeth are ugly. “Is that kid special to you, your _highness?_ Is he your little boyfriend? Oh, well don’t worry. We’ll go back and kill him—make sure he’s dead for good, just for you.”

_NO!_

Her eyes glow blue and she roars, louder than she’s ever done before. When the blue clears, the colorful shapes are there again. Seeing temperature. The men are yelling like they’re scared, but she doesn’t care. They’re going to go back and kill Kaze—were laughing about killing him.

And killing is the worst law to break. If you kill somebody, your punishment is to die too. She’s a royal now, so it’s okay.

Kamui doesn’t focus on their screaming, only on what they’ll do to Kaze if she lets them go back to hurt him. She smells a lot of blood as she attacks the bad men; hears them call her a ‘monster’, or ‘demon’, and ‘evil’. But they’re the evil ones. Killing is wrong, and you’ll be punished with death if you kill. Those are the rules—the  _law._

She only stops attacking them once their blobs start turning darker colors like green and blue. Her hands feel wet, and so does her tail. One time she opened her mouth and a skinny shot of water came out, and it cut a tree in half. It fell on one of the men and then she shot another jet of water at his orange and yellow blob. He stopped moving after that.

When it’s completely quiet, and she can only hear the chickens, she walks away. Kamui sniffs the ground for her dragonstone. It was in a pouch tied to her obi, the sash around the kimono. But it’s hard to smell for it because it doesn’t really have a scent, and there’s too much blood distracting her nose.

Kamui touches the ground with her hands and feet, and her tail. Maybe that’ll help her find it faster. And when she does, it’s covered by her old clothes, but they’re ripped now and she can’t wear them anymore. Her mama said it’s not good to transform back into a person without clothes, because then she’ll be naked. And you can only be naked when you take a bath.

She finds the cart again because of the chicken blobs, and grabs the blanket from the floor. More bad men might come, so she can’t stay here. Kamui throws the blanket over her back and keeps the pouch with her stone in her jaw. It hangs over the side, swinging back and forth as she moves.

But she doesn’t know where she is. She’s only spent time in Shirasagi and her mama’s village, and Notre Sagesse. It’s getting dark. She knows it is because the sun blob isn’t there anymore, and owls are hooting.

The sound of ripples in water catches her ears, and she walks faster toward it. Kamui leaves her blanket and stone at the edge of a small pond before jumping into it. She twirls around underwater and stays there, looking for any fish or frogs because she’s really hungry. Breathing in the water when she’s a dragon is as easy as breathing air when she’s a human.

Only when she’s done eating does she go back to the blanket. She shakes off any water she still feels on her scales, and then picks up her things again. Even though it’s night, she can still see tree blobs and the warm ones of animals running around or the ones up in the branches. There’s a green hole at the base of one of the trees. Kamui crawls into it, and it’s small enough that it’s sort of cool. She grabs the blanket with her mouth and tosses it over her back, before laying her head down.

A lot of bad things happened today, and she’s super tired now. For real this time. She needs to get back to Hinoka and her mama and all her friends, but she doesn’t know which way to go.

“Mama… P… Papa…,” she cries softly. “Kaze… I wanna go home….”

But she’s not home, and so she sleeps, praying to the gods she doesn’t stay lost forever.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


She wakes up in her human form. And she only does that because she hears people nearby, including the girl crouching in front of the hole. Kamui covers herself with the blanket, holding the dragonstone pouch to her chest. This girl has white hair and warmer skin, the kind of skin Kamui and her mama have.

But this girl also has red paint marks on her face, like whiskers. She has a small bird skull hanging around her neck from a long thread. A lot of the clothes she wears are colored brown and a dark red. The girl looks as old as Hinoka, so she has to be maybe 11 or 12.

“Hey, Auntie!” the girl shouts over her shoulder. “Look what I found!”

A lady crouches next to her, staring at Kamui. She also has white hair, but it’s short. Her eyes go wide when she sees the blanket. “Oh, Rinka, why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“I _just_ found her.”

“Wanna come out from there?” the lady asks. “We’re not mean, I promise. Well, maybe Rinka is.”

“No I’m not. But if you hurt my auntie then I’m gonna punch you in the face.”

“Rinka! This is a child!”

“So? I started training when I looked as young as her, and don’t those ninja clans train their kids to be ninja starting like, when they’re 7, right? She’s not gonna get tough if you baby her.”

The lady shakes her head and huffs. “I’m Noa, the aunt of Rinka,” she says with a smile. “And who are you, sweetie?”

“K-Kamui,” she replies. “Are you bad? Like those men?”

Noa’s smile falls, and she looks Kamui up and down. Her face is angry for some reason. “Which men?”

“I don’t know. They were all ugly and the meanest one had nasty teeth. But they stole me from Shirasagi—that’s where my house is. They tried to take my sis…,” Kamui bites her lip, staring at her lap, “…my friend, but I saved her and she got away. I didn’t though. Now I’m lost and I don’t know how to get back home.”

“Shirasagi is very far from here. At least four days away. Do you want to come out and talk? It looks stuffy in there.”

“It smells nice in here, like soil. But I was gonna come out anyway, because I’m hungry.”

“Well we just finished hunting, so we have plenty of food. You want some?”

Kamui nods quickly. “Yes, please.”

Noa takes her back to their camp where other people are also there. Some are cutting up a large deer, the buck. Others are skinning rabbits or plucking the feathers off from ducks. She only knows all of this because Daichi told her a few things about hunting when she last saw him at Mama’s village.

“We’re from the Flame Tribe,” Noa says when they get to her tent. “It’s a settlement just a little further north of here. Gets really snowy during the winter.”

“Is it pretty up there when it snows?”

“Very.”

Rinka goes to a box and pulls out some clothes from it, similar to the ones she’s wearing. She drops them in front of Kamui. “They’re mine, so they’ll be a little big on you. But you’re naked,” she points out, her fists on her hips, “and you can’t walk around naked. You’re not a baby anymore. And _especially_ ‘cause you’re a girl.”

When Kamui is done dressing, and Noa has adjusted the clothes with threads and needles so they fit better, she’s given a truffle they found earlier in the morning. It’s kind of like a mushroom, and she loves mushrooms. Noa tells her that they don’t eat until all the food has been taken back to the village, “but you can at least have that. It’s good.”

She munches on the truffle as the hunting party makes their way back to the settlement. It’s a lot larger than Mama’s village, and a lot of things are colored red, orange, or yellow. There’s a big house in the center with a flame symbol on the top. Noa and Rinka take her there, and Kamui stays off to the side still eating the truffle as Noa walks away to another room. This room looks similar to the throne room in Shirasagi Castle, but it has more brownish colors and hardly any gold. There’s also no throne, but a fancy cushion instead up on a step.

“Auntie’s gonna go get my father,” Rinka says. “Somebody needs to take you back ‘cause you can’t stay here.”

“Why?”

“The Flame Tribe doesn’t like outsiders,” she crosses her arms, “but like, you’re just a little kid, and we can’t leave you to die out there either.”

“Oh, okay.”

When Noa comes back, Kamui has finished eating the truffle. Next to the nice lady is a large man, and Rinka walks up to him, greeting him as ‘father’, so that must be her papa. He has the same white hair Rinka does but longer, and the paint markings on his cheeks. He has a necklace with large red beads, and no shirt. His muscles are big. On his waist is a golden sash that has a skull hanging from the side of his puffy pants.

“You’re Kamui,” he says, walking to her. She has to bend her neck back because he’s so tall. “My sister Noa says you were abandoned out in the woods.”

“No I ran away from those bad men.”

Rinka’s papa stares at Kamui, his arms crossed like his daughter. “Your ears, and your eyes. You aren’t a human, are you? Perhaps you’re a spirit?”

Kamui shakes her head. “But I didn’t die. I’m still alive; I can turn into a dragon, and that’s why I have this stone.” She takes it out of her pouch and shows it to him. “It helps me focus as a human when I’m a dragon, so I don’t think a lot like an animal. That’s what Mama told me.”

The man whispers to Noa, and they both stare at her as they do so. Then Noa takes Kamui to another room at the right side of Rinka’s house. Or at least she’s sure it’s Rinka’s house because her papa told her to go to her own room for a little while.

But the new room Kamui is in is a lot smaller than the last one. There’s a pretty carpet that has red, brown, and white designs on it. Some cushions are piled in a corner and there’s a fire burning in a pot. A bow and arrow are hanging from the wall and different wooden boxes of all sizes are against the edges of the room. The only window is high up, and it has glass like the ones from Nohr.

“Kamui,” the man walks into this new room, and takes two cushions from the pile. He sets them on the floor, “please sit.”

She listens and sits down on the soft cushion. Noa comes in and takes another cushion, and the two adults sit in front of her with their legs crossed, like how people in Hoshido sit when they’re relaxing. The man stares at her for a long time before he says, “My name is Isamu, and I’m the chief of this settlement. It’s been a strict custom of the Flame Tribe to not allow outsiders into our village, or even interact with other Hoshidans. But you’re a special case. Tell me how you got lost.”

“Those bad men kidnapped me, like I told Miss Noa. But I got away.”

“How?”

“I killed them,” the man’s eyes widen, as do Noa’s, “because Mama said it’s against the law to kill people and if you do then you get put to death by the royals. And they were gonna go back to Shirasagi to kill my friend Kaze and then I got scared they might try to kill my mama. So I turned into a dragon and attacked them. Are you gonna kill me now, too? Because I broke the law?”

Isamu makes a grunt at the back of his throat, staring at Kamui again. “No, I won’t kill you. There’s a difference between killing to defend yourself, and killing people for no reason. I also have no jurisdiction over things like that. Why did those men kidnap you?”

Kamui shrugs. “I dunno, Mister Isamu.”

“Did they say anything about where they were taking you?”

She tries to remember what those men were talking about. When she tells Isamu about the ‘debt’ and whatever a ‘whore house’ is, his eyebrows scrunch up and his hands curl into fists. Kamui doesn’t know why he looks so mad. She told him the truth, and even said she killed those men because they were going to hurt Kaze.

“Kamui,” Isamu starts, “don’t feel guilty about killing those men. Where they were going to take you was a very bad place.”

“Was I gonna die?”

“No, but once you got there, you’d wish you had.” Isamu sits back, crossing his arms. “Are your parents dragons too?”

Shaking her head, she replies, “No, Mama is a human. She says that my papa could’ve been gifted with dragon powers. But Ryoma tells me dragon people don’t exist, and the only dragon people were the old gods that already died a long time ago. He said the Dawn Dragon could turn into a pretty lady, but only a few people ever saw her like that.”

“Ryoma? As in, Crown Prince Ryoma of Hoshido?”

Nodding, she gives a smile. “Yeah! He’s my friend, and nice to me. I like to watch him train with the katana. My mama married his papa, King Sumeragi, a few days ago. The ceremony was pretty and there were lots of flowers and yummy food! I ate a lot, and so did Ryoma. And then I got to see Miss Arete and an old man named Garon ‘cause they were guests. They’re the king and queen of Nohr. That’s what Mama told me.”

Isamu looks to Noa, and says quietly, “So she’s the daughter of Mikoto, Sumeragi’s new wife. No wonder those men tried to kidnap her and Princess Hinoka.”

“What do we do?”

“She’ll have to be returned. No doubt Sumeragi is spending every resource he can to find her. She’s also a dragon hybrid, and should the wrong people find out, it’d be a disaster. Perhaps there _was_ a god left hiding someplace in this realm. Certainly, it’s an omen. But of what kind, I don’t yet know.”

The man turns to Kamui again, and asks, “Might you show us your dragon form, Kamui?” 

“But then my clothes are gonna rip and I’ll be naked! It’s ‘improper’ to be naked.”

“We’ll get you new ones.” He nods to Noa, and then she leaves the room. “Kamui, you’re still quite young and innocent, so I don’t expect you to understand a lot of what’s going on. But this dragon power you have, it’s rare—unheard of even. Only the first founders of all the kingdoms on this earth could become dragons because they were blessed by the gods. The royal families, and even a few noble lineages, still possess draconic blood. But it’s been watered down through time, and now they can only activate Dragon Veins.”

“Um, I don’t know what that is, but it sounds important.”

“It’s extremely important, as are you. Your very name, ‘Kamui’, has divine meaning. Surely this wasn’t an accident. You were born into this realm for a reason, from whatever last dragon god managed to hide as a human here. Or at least, that’s what I can only assume from what you’ve told me.”

She tilts her head, touching the stone in her hand. “Is my papa a dragon god?”

“I don’t know. But if he is, that would make you a demigoddess.”

“What’s that?”

“A human who is half-god, and is much stronger and superior than normal humans because of it. But they only exist in stories. Or were supposed to, anyway. Never thought I’d live a lifetime where I’d actually meet one.”

Noa comes back soon after, and then Isamu asks Kamui to turn into a dragon. She does, and this time it doesn’t hurt anymore like usual. They ask her how it feels and she tells them she can’t really see like when she’s human. Only temperature shapes. But her hearing and smelling senses are a lot stronger, and if she focuses on the ground, she can feel people or animals walking nearby. Her wings are still too small to fly, but they’ll get bigger when she grows. She can breathe underwater just as easily as on air, and she gets hungry quickly when she’s a dragon. But she can’t breathe fire like the dragons in the stories. Water comes out instead, so strong that it can slice thick trees.

“That’s how I killed one of the men. A tree fell on him and then I opened my mouth and more powerful water came out and hit him in the face. He stopped yelling after that, and then his blob started to turn green and blue after a while.”

“Sumeragi definitely must’ve known about her dragon form, otherwise I doubt he’d marry below his station,” Isamu tells Noa. “She needs to be taken back immediately.”

“Did I do something wrong?” Kamui asks. She doesn’t mind that her voice echoes as a dragon anymore. It sounds sort of cool now.

“No, you didn’t.” Isamu stands up, and walks toward the door. “I’m going to prepare a small group to take Kamui back to Shirasagi tomorrow. Noa, you will be in charge of this party.”

“Of course, Brother.”

When the chief leaves, Kamui is allowed to turn back into a human. Noa covers her with a blanket and takes her to a third room to bathe. She gets dressed and then is offered another truffle. Later once it’s night, she eats a big dinner in that room. The food is good and warm, but there aren’t any utensils for eating like chopsticks or forks. Noa just says to eat with her hands, but only after she’s thoroughly washed them with soap.

Kamui sleeps in Noa’s room under comfy blankets made of feathers, animal skins, and cloth. In the morning, she eats a big breakfast and then gets changed into new clothes that Noa ‘tailored’ to fit her. She follows the woman outside where other Flame Tribe people are waiting for them with weapons (they have clubs and magic scrolls) and sacks of their belongings. In the group, there are five, plus Noa.

“We’re taking you back to Shirasagi,” Noa says. “It’s four days away from here on foot, so be prepared to walk a lot.”

“Don’t you have horses?”

“Not many, and they’re for emergencies.”

Isamu says good bye and blesses them for safe travels. Rinka isn’t here because she’s still asleep; that’s what he replies when she asks. He tells Kamui to be careful, and not to tell strangers that she can turn into a dragon. “There’s a lot of evil out in the world,” he says, “even in Hoshido. Your soul is still pure, so don’t let anyone corrupt it.”

“Okay.”

She doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but she thanks him for the food and that she got to sleep in his warm house. Then she goes with Noa and the Flame Tribe group on the adventure back to Shirasagi.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


They make camp the first two days, and Kamui watches more of the people hunt. She gets to pluck one of the ducks, and keep a feather. Seeing it dead makes her really sad because it’s so cute and it didn’t do anything to deserve to die. But ducks also taste good, and she’s hungry.

“Sorry, cute duck,” she says. “I promise I’ll eat all of you.”

On the afternoon of the third day, she sees a familiar symbol up ahead on the road.

The flag is a deep purple color, and it has the Nohrian emblem on it. A lot of soldiers are walking around a moving carriage. Noa stops their small party, standing in front of Kamui. One of the Nohrian soldiers halts his group, and then walks up to them.

He looks at Kamui first, and then at Noa. “State your name and the province from which you came.”

“I’m Noa, sister to Chief Isamu of the Flame Tribe. And we don’t give away the location of our home, sorry. What are Nohrians doing so far out here?”

“As visiting allies to the Hoshidan crown, we offered to help look for the kidnapped Princess Kamui, who you now possess. King Garon has taken it upon himself to travel with us to ensure her kidnappers are dealt with.”

“Well that’s not us. We found Kamui hiding among tree roots a few days ago. Once she told us who she was, we set off to return her.”

The carriage door opens, and out steps King Garon in his black Nohrian armor. Next to him is his son, Prince Xander. His hair is nice, like gold, and the curls look soft to touch. But Kamui knows it’s rude to touch somebody’s hair. He was at the wedding, but she didn’t talk to him at all because she was off playing with Takumi or hanging out with Kaze.

“Good day,” Garon starts. “I’m King Garon of Nohr, and I have official business to retrieve Princess Kamui should I find her.”

“Bow before his majesty,” the soldier says, “and his highness Crown Prince Alexander.”

“The Flame Tribe doesn’t bow to nobility,” replies Noa, “regardless of the land from which they came. Hoshidan or Nohrian—it doesn’t matter. Neither has done anything to earn our respect.”

Garon frowns, and gives a soft grunt. “We will take the princess back to Shirasagi now. Thank you for watching over her.”

Noa stares at him, narrowing her eyes. Kamui doesn’t move, only blinks up at the king. “Is Mama okay?”

“Your mother is very sad and worried, Lady Kamui,” replies Garon. “She’s cried every day since they kidnapped you, and she’s scared you’re already dead.”

“Oh, no I don’t want her to keep crying! I’m alive! Take me back home so she can stop crying!” Kamui runs to Garon and tugs on his purple sash. “Please, Mister Garon—Lord Garon, I wanna go back to Shirasagi!”

“And you will, child.” He pats her head a few times. “Miss Noa, it’s clear the girl wishes to return home. But we will inform King Sumeragi of your good deeds, rest assured.”

She stares at the king, and then at the weapons of the soldiers. “Very well. We request Sumeragi sends us confirmation of her return.”

“I will tell him so. Thank you for your time.”

Noa stares at him still, then smiles at Kamui. “Take care of yourself, okay little one?”

“Okay Miss Noa! And tell Rinka I said good bye!”

“I will. Until we meet again, princess.”

Kamui watches the Flame Tribe walk back the way they came. Then she’s escorted into the carriage where Garon and Xander sit, and they go the opposite direction down the road, back to Shirasagi.

For a long time, it’s quiet. Garon looks out the window a lot, and Xander stares down at his lap. Kamui is sitting next to him on the other seat across from the Nohrian king. There’s a letter in her vest that Isamu told her to give to Sumeragi, and only Sumeragi. She’s not supposed to tell anyone about it, so she hopes it doesn’t slip out. Losing it would be very bad.

“Your hair kinda looks like noodles,” she tells Xander when she gets bored of the quiet.

He stares at her with wide eyes, blinking. “Wh… What? Noodles?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s golden and in big curls. Oh, well it’s more like they’re kinda wavy. It’s pretty though.” She smiles at him, scooting closer. “My name is Kamui, so hi! You’re Xander, right?”

“Um, Prince Alexander, or that’s what most people call me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Okay, hi Prince Alexander!”

“You… uh, don’t have to say it as much because you’re a princess.”

“Hmm,” she purses her lips, “then can I call you Xander?”

The boy looks to Garon, who nods and shoos his hand at him. “Yes, you can call me that.”

“Alright! Well it’s nice to meet you, Xander! How old are you? ‘Cause you look as old as Ryoma.”

“I’ll be 14 in October.”

“That’s still kinda far away. My birthday is in June, and I’ll be 9, which is this month. I like having it in the summer because it’s warm and sunny. Those are my favorite days. I don’t really like winter, which sucks for Takumi ‘cause his birthday is in December.”

Xander smiles, adjusting his gauntlets. “Winter can suck, yes, but it’s also nice to see so much snow. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah! It’s fun to play in the snow.” Kamui leans closer, grinning. “Hey, do you wanna be my friend? I don’t have any Nohrian friends, and I like your hair. It looks soft. Can I touch it?”

“Uh, oh, yeah sure.”

Kamui giggles and reaches up to touch his hair. Like she thought, it really is soft. The curls feel nice on her palm. Xander’s hair isn’t long though. The curls barely come up to the middle of his ears. She wonders if he plans to grow it long like Ryoma will with his own hair.

“I uh,” Xander starts, “I meant that I’ll be your friend, not that you can touch my hair.”

“Oh,” she pulls her hand away, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—are you mad now? Did I mess up? You’re not gonna be my friend anymore?” She stares at her feet. “It’s okay. I understand if you don’t want to….”

“N-No, that’s not what I meant, Princess Kamui. I was just surprised, is all.”

“So,” she looks up at him, frowning, “does that mean I can still be your friend?”

“Yes, of course.”

Kamui laughs, bouncing in her seat. “Good! I’m happy. Hello, new friend Xander!”

“Hello, Lady Kamui,” he says with a small smile. “I hope that we can be friends and stay allies too when we get older.”

She nods, “Yeah, okay!”

Once she gets back to Shirasagi, she’s going to tell her mama she’s made a new friend. Xander, her new Nohrian friend. Hopefully he won’t be scared of her dragon form. But she’ll save that for another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, Kaze's first (and only) POV! Ha ha, but he'll get _a lot_ more in parts 2  & 3, so don't fret. Kaze is one of my favorite characters and it's such a shame we never got to see his childhood with the Avatar. I mean, he's _supposed_ to be important to the Avatar's story, though he doesn't get much spotlight except in Birthright, kind of. But if you need a visual for kiddie Kaze, [this fanart](https://frescomayor.tumblr.com/post/157141792569) is pretty cute and how I imagine him to look in part 1.
> 
> Here's another point in my story where--if you've played the game--you know I completely scrapped because it was bullshit. That is, Garon kidnapping the Avatar to take to Nohr. Kamui still gets kidnapped as you can see, but now without Nohr's involvement, and Kaze actually does his best to protect and save her. Or as good as he can at 11 years old, anyway.
> 
> This was actually my favorite chapter to write out of all of part 1 for a variety of reasons. I want to give Hinoka and Kamui's (eventual) bond more spotlight since it was so poorly handled in the game, and I figured this would be a good place to start.
> 
> I improvised again with Kamui's dragon form. Since it's a water dragon, it wouldn't make sense for it to breathe fire. Instead it shoots out water from its mouth at high pressures. So high it can cut through thick materials like tree trunks, or even stone. (Which is possible to do with water IRL. It can even cut through metal. It's scary. Lol)
> 
> Also thanks for over 50 kudos! You guys are awesome.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	28. XXVIII

Kamui has been lost to them for a week now.

Ever since that dreadful night she was kidnapped, Mikoto hasn’t been able to sleep. Not even Arete’s supportive presence is enough to rid her imagination of all the horrible things that could’ve happened to her little girl.

Soldiers from every faction of the military, from the infantry to the fliers, were ordered by Sumeragi to search all of Hoshido for her. Garon offered his own men to aide them in their search, and so he had set off the next morning to help look for her while Arete remained in the castle.

When the ninja had found Kaze that night, he was badly beaten, and unconscious. Thankfully Setsuna was only unconscious too, having nowhere near the same amount of injuries. The golden hairpin Kamui was wearing that day was found thrown off to the side. Hinoka admitted she did that because she was angry.

The girl hasn’t been able to look Mikoto in the eye for a whole week. Not because she hates her, but out of shame and guilt instead. Sumeragi had verbally scolded her, and Ryoma was beyond infuriated (having been nearly kidnapped himself some years ago). Takumi only cried because Kamui was taken, and he worried if she was dead or not.

From that horrible day onward, Mikoto has gone to the temple to pray for Kamui’s safe return.

It’s during these trips that she hears people whisper about this event being a bad omen. From the ninja side of things, however, they talk of Kaze’s failure to protect the princess, and how he’s not suitable to be a retainer. Even after seeing how badly he was hurt and hearing about how hard he tried to protect her against four adults, they weren’t moved.

He’s currently residing in a prison cell. The boy is to be judged tomorrow in the throne room. Saizo the Fourth had insisted on it. The man loves his children, but his duty to the crown is more important. Mikoto argued why Setsuna wasn’t also being tried—as she too failed to protect Hinoka—and the council explained it was her status as a noble.

“Lady Hinoka insists it wasn’t her fault,” they had said.

“But Kaze is only a child, just like her.”

“Except he’s meant to be a warrior. Lady Setsuna is a noble, and so it’s understandable why she didn’t put up much of a fight.”

Mikoto didn’t bother arguing with them out of concern her tongue would be sharp enough to pierce their brains.

No one is allowed down at the prison cell except for Saizo Sr. and Sumeragi if he needs to be there. But she knows his retainer well enough that Kaze is likely being physically punished for failing to complete his assignment. _First_ assignment, at _11_ years old.

Sometimes she sees Saizo Jr. staring at the entrance to the prison, looking the slightest bit sad. Perhaps it’s true what they say about twins: they can feel the other’s pain in some strange way. But whenever he catches her staring, he quickly neutralizes his expression and bows, before disappearing among the shadows.

It’s on Kamui’s 9th birthday that the gods finally answer her.

Sumeragi and Mikoto are in the throne room as two guards bring in Kaze. At first she didn’t know what his punishment would be. When the council, Sumeragi, and Saizo Sr. all convened, she wasn’t allowed in so as to keep the ruling objective. Sumeragi also refused to tell her, but his face looked grim as he said so. That’s all she needed to know.

“This isn’t right,” she whispers to her husband. “He’s only a child.”

“A child trained in the ninja arts. While we do have our own rules, so does Saizo’s clan. And we had to come to a middle ground.”

“Giving a small boy the _death sentence_ is a reasonable compromise? Really?”

“Your majesty,” Saizo starts, “my clan takes failure very seriously. Suzukaze was not ready to become a retainer. Yet even knowing this himself, he went ahead and did whatever he wanted. Look what happened. Your daughter was kidnapped and has been gone for several days with us having no way of knowing about her current condition. My son has shamed our clan by failing his very first assignment. This wouldn’t be as much of an issue normally, but to fail the crown? No, that is unacceptable.”

“He’s _11._ ”

“We teach them how to kill at 8. He couldn’t even do that right.”

Gods, she’s glad that Arete excused herself to her guest room. The queen would’ve ripped his head off at the logic. Her sister has seen enough of children getting killed in castles.

She looks to the center of the carpet where the two guards are watching Kaze. Both his hands are bound at the wrists behind his back. He’s sitting on his knees, staring at the floor. The boy was made to dress down to convict attire, and so only wears itchy brown pants and a tattered vest. His expression is neutralized, but his eyes are red and puffy. Dried tear stains are still visible on his cheeks. He has a few bruises on his torso and limbs from where those men had kicked him. But she knows some of those are also from his father.

Mikoto wants to regurgitate her breakfast.

“Are you ready for your trial, Suzukaze?” asks Sumeragi.

“Yes, your majesty,” he replies without feeling.

Just then, Arete rushes into the room, her heels clicking against the floor. A guard chases after her, his attempts futile in explaining why she can’t go in. She ignores him and brushes past Saizo whose words of protest die before he can finish his sentence.

“I’ve got word from Garon,” the queen says frantically, “and he’s found Kamui.”

That makes Kaze look up at her in surprise, as does everyone else in the room. Mikoto nearly leaps off her seat and runs toward her. “Is she alive?! Is she hurt?! What happened?!”

“My dear,” Arete addresses the glowing gemstone in her palm, “how is Kamui?”

“She’s fine,” comes Garon’s voice from the other end. “In fact, she won’t stop talking to anyone who so much as says hello. Wants to be everyone’s friend. It was a good idea to bring Xander along after all. He keeps her distracted with his company.”

Mikoto smiles and gives a laugh, placing her hands over her mouth. Tears drip from the corner of her eyes. Arete only smiles at her, and then asks again into the stone, “How far are you from Shirasagi?”

“Coincidentally, we’ve just arrived at the gate of the city.”

_Blessed be the gods. My little girl is alive!_

She doesn’t wait for anyone to give an order to stop the trial. Mikoto bounds past the guards and rushes out of the throne room. She wants to be the first one Kamui sees once she steps foot in the castle again. And so she stands patiently in the foyer as Garon brings Kamui up the steps some 15 minutes later, young Xander walking right next to her.

“—and Jakob says bad words all the time, but he’s not really mean. Flora is kinda quiet, but she bakes yummy cookies. They’re kinda lumpy, but still good! One time I helped her. And Felicia trips a lot and drops stuff. Even the expensive stuff.” 

“Yes, she does, and probably still will….,” the prince says, staring off into space as if he’s remembering some accident the young maid undoubtedly did.

Kamui starts to converse with him again until she spots Mikoto. She stops in her tracks, eyes going wide. Then her lip quivers, and she begins to cry, running toward her. “Mama!”

“My little Kamui!” Mikoto scoops her up in her arms, holding her close. She laughs as she cries, kissing her head and her nose, her chin and her cheeks. Kamui wraps her arms around her neck as she sobs, and Mikoto rubs soothing circles into her back with a hand.

“Thank you, King Garon,” she says to him, taking a moment to breathe. “Thank you so much for finding her.”

“Actually, people from the Flame Tribe found her, or at least that’s what they told me. I simply brought her the rest of the way back. A fortunate coincidence.”

“Oh! Mama, put me down!” Mikoto does so, and Kamui rubs at her eyes. “I-I have to give something to Pa—to King Sumeragi ‘cause Mister Isamu said I need to! Where is he?”

“In the throne room. But my love, you shouldn’t go in—”

Kamui doesn’t listen and runs past her, and past the other guards standing by the two large red doors. Mikoto hurries after her, calling her name. Such an innocent girl shouldn’t have to see her cherished friend getting executed.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” she hears Kamui scream.

Mikoto rushes into the room and finds Kamui tackling the soldier with an unsheathed katana in his hand. He falls to the floor as she yells, “Why did you have that over Kaze’s head?! Are you gonna kill him?!”

Then she growls. And it’s such an ugly, guttural and primal growl, that it sends a chill down her spine.

“Killing isn’t nice,” she says in a slightly distorted voice, her nostrils flaring and eyes going wide. They look redder. “If you kill somebody, you get put to death. That’s the law—,” her arm morphs into a mutation of her dragon one, and the canines of her teeth become slightly longer, “and you die if you break it. And it’s okay because I’m a princess now, so I can kill you for not following the rules.”

“ _No_ , Kamui!” Mikoto runs toward her, pleading, “No please don’t!”

She looks up at her mother. “But Mama, you said that killing is the worst law to break. And royals punish people who do. He was gonna hurt Kaze like those bad men!”

“This is different, Kamui,” Sumeragi says carefully, inching closer to her. He doesn’t reach for the Raijinto sheathed at his hip, but it’s still there in plain sight. “Kaze did something bad.”

It gets through to her, and her features return to normal. “But… But he’s not a bad person! He’s my friend and he’s really nice!”

“He’s being punished for not protecting you.”

“Punished? But he tried his best and those men hurt him really bad! Why…,” she stares at the katana, and then at Kaze’s battered form, “…are you gonna kill him? He didn’t kill anyone.”

“No,” Saizo walks up to her, though keeps his distance, placing himself in front of Sumeragi, “and that’s the problem. He was supposed to kill those men in order to protect you. Lady Kamui, we’re all relieved and happy that you’ve returned safely. But this is something you still don’t understand, so it’d be best if—”

“You’re gonna kill him! No!” She runs to Kaze, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight. “I won’t let you! H-He didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Please, your highness. The council already decided—”

“Well Ryoma said the council is _stupid_ and they’re all old and should be dead anyway!” Kamui shakes her head, still unrelenting in her hold of Kaze. “If you kill him then you gotta kill me too b-because it’s not fair! He did his best but I know he was scared because I could see it in his face and _I_ was really scared and those men beat him up! Adults shouldn’t pick on little kids!”

She begins to sob again. “B-Because it’s my fault that Hinoka ran away and it’s my fault that the nice lady Ikona died because Hinoka said I was taking all the attention away from her when she was sick because of my ugly dragon a-and so I don’t want to die but Kaze didn’t do anything to deserve to die either and y-you…,” Kamui hiccups as her eyes run anew with more tears, “…don’t kill Kaze. Please. He’s my friend.”

The girl presses her face into his shoulder. “He doesn’t hate me like everyone else does. I-I know they do. Please don’t kill my friend. Please. I don’t have a lot of them….”

Quiet settles in the room. Arete looks visibly disturbed, her eyes scrunched shut as her head tilts down, a deep frown on her red lips. Saizo and the executioner exchange glances. Only when Sumeragi gives him a wave of the hand does the soldier sheath the katana.

Mikoto can only continue to wonder why Kamui has to keep enduring such things.

“Lady Kamui,” starts Kaze in a raspy voice. He gives a weak smile, “you’re okay. I’m really happy that you are.”

She sniffs, rubbing her nose with her hand and wiping the mucus on her pants. “I got scared that those men were gonna come back and kill you ‘cause they said they would. They called you a useless ninja but you’re _not!_ You tried hard to protect me and I saw you and then they cheated and attacked you when you weren’t looking!”

“Kamui,” Mikoto tries, “didn’t you have something to give to Sumeragi?”

The girl pouts. “No.”

“Sweetie….”

With a shake of her head, she protests, “I’m not giving it to him until he promises that Kaze isn’t gonna be punished with death!”

Mikoto stares at her new husband. “If even a child knows this is unjust, that should say enough about the reality of this situation. Kamui is alive, and that’s what matters.” She holds her tongue about this whole chaotic event only happening in the first place because of Hinoka, but Mikoto also understands the girl was still mourning the loss of her real mother. She can’t blame her for that.

Sumeragi sighs, giving a nod. “Yes. Once again, I was misguided in my actions. And it took yet another child to show me that. Kamui, I truly am deeply sorry, and didn’t realize this would affect you so much.”

Kamui doesn’t say anything, only stares at Kaze’s vest. She gasps softly when she sees the bruises, and gently touches them. “Is this what the bad men did? Oh no. They really hurt you, Kaze….” She touches his face, both hands on his cheeks. “But it’s okay, ‘cause they can’t anymore. They’re dead now forever. You’re my friend—my _bestest_ friend in the whole universe, so I’ll protect you too, okay? Nobody is gonna hurt you ever again.”

He smiles, the brightest Mikoto has seen from him yet. “Okay. Thank you, Lady Kamui. Ah, right. Do you know what day it is today?”

“No, what?”

“June 25th. You’re 9 today.” He watches as her small mouth turns into an ‘o’ shape at the realization. “Happy Birthday, Lady Kamui.”

“Oh, oh I forgot ‘cause I didn’t remember the days when I was gone. Thank you, Kaze!”

“Sorry I don’t have a gift for you.”

“It’s okay; I still have the little wooden bunny you made me last time. But you have to promise to stay my friend.”

“I will. Um, but I can’t be your retainer anymore, because those men kidnapped you and I didn’t stop them like I should’ve. I’m sorry for failing you….”

“What? But I don’t _want_ another one! I want _you_ as my retainer! And no take backs! I forgive you, okay?” She looks to Mikoto with her large ruby eyes, and a frown on her tiny lips. “Mama, please. Please give Kaze another chance, pretty please? H-He can do it, I know he can!”

“A lot has happened today, Kamui. Don’t you want to rest? We can talk more about this later and then celebrate your birthday tomorrow. How’s that?”

“Do I get presents?”

“Yes, there’s still time to get something for you.”

“Then,” she stares down at the floor, still holding onto Kaze, “for my birthday, I want Kaze to be my retainer again. I-It’s okay if I don’t get any toys or candies or other nice things. But I wanna keep my friend. Please, Mama?”

“We’ll discuss it,” she says, looking to Sumeragi. “Isn’t that right, my love?”

“Of course.” The king kneels in front of Kamui, giving a gentle smile. “I promise Kaze can still be your retainer. But he’s going to have to train much harder so he doesn’t fail again. He’ll be very busy, so you might not see him as often.”

“I won’t?” She stares at Kaze, and the boy stares back. “Is that true?” she asks him.

“Maybe. I… I don’t know yet.”

“But you’ll be alive?”

“Yes. I promise to stay alive so I can be your retainer when I’m ready, for real this time.”

She frowns, “Okay…,” and then takes out a letter from her vest, giving it to Sumeragi. “But you promised now, Pa—um, King Sumeragi.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t break the promise. Thank you for this, Kamui.” He places a gentle hand on her head. “And is there a reason why you don’t want to call me ‘papa’?”

When Kamui hides her face against Kaze’s neck, Sumeragi pulls his hand away. “Hinoka said I can’t…,” she mumbles. “Because I’m not actually her sister, and you’re not my real papa. So I’m not part of your real family, and not actually a princess. I don’t want her to yell at me again so I won’t call you my papa. I’m sorry….”

He’s quiet for a short pause. Then he says, “Hinoka told me what happened, and that wasn’t nice of her to say those things to you, Kamui.”

“But they’re true….”

“No, they’re not. I may not be your real father, but you’re still part of this family now. If she doesn’t understand that, then it’s her fault, not yours. Okay?”

Kamui only nods, but her diverted attention to the rug makes it clear she still doesn’t believe a single word. Mikoto tries to soothe her away from Kaze with the promise of a warm bath and lunch. But she refuses to move until his wrists are untied. Kamui only gets up once Kaze is free, and she stares sadly at the red marks around his wrists.

“I’ll be okay, Lady Kamui,” he assures.

“They look like they hurt.” She touches them gently, and he doesn’t flinch. “Do they hurt, Kaze?”

“Only a little bit. But they’ll go away in a few days.” His father gives him a look, and then Kaze says, “For now I have to go. I’ll see you later, milady.” He waves a timid good bye before Saizo disappears with him out a side door.

Arete doesn’t comment on what had unfolded before her, but whispers to Mikoto that she wants to talk later in private. “For now, I must go to Garon and my son. We need to prepare to make the trip back to Nohr.”

Mikoto doesn’t leave Kamui’s side for the rest of the day. That night, they sleep in their old room. Sumeragi doesn’t think it’s a good idea right now to have Kamui share Hinoka’s room, so he places extra security outside the old room. Mikoto closes the door to the balcony, and only leaves the window slightly open for a breeze to cool the room on this hot summer night.

Her little girl falls asleep quickly, snuggled against her chest.

_She’s changed; that much is evident. But for better or for worse, I hope it’s the former._

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


One of her worries comes to pass, and that’s Kamui being kept locked up in her room out of ‘protection’ from the outside world.

Normally, Mikoto would protest at such a flimsy excuse. But after finding out more details of Kamui’s kidnapping, she’s less inclined to argue. Had Kamui not used her instinct—hell, had she not been half-dragon, those men would’ve taken her to a miserable life of being an object of sexual pleasure for the rest of her days. The very same fake history Mikoto had made for herself.

She wonders if the universe thinks it’s humorous to torment her.

Knowing her daughter killed the men because she was scared of them going after Kaze didn’t help ease her worries. On the one hand, Kamui is old enough to understand what’s right and what’s wrong. But on the other, she doesn’t hesitate to kill when she feels she or people she cares about are being threatened. Even if it’s something official, like Kaze’s near execution. That could be the more feral instincts in her taking over.

The letter from Chief Isamu also addressed concerns that her hybrid status might bring unsavory interests from around the land if it’s not kept a secret. He theorized Kamui might be a demigoddess, and that her father is a god of some kind who was still living in this realm. Isamu isn’t wrong, though Mikoto isn’t about to confirm his educated guesses.

But the one thing she can agree with him on is that Kamui needs to learn how to properly utilize her dragon form. Not being a dragon herself, however, Mikoto has no idea where to start.

“—and so with that finally being funded,” Arete finishes, “we’re now prepared to enact the ambassador program, Sumeragi.”

“Excellent.” He browses through the official documents Arete and Garon had finished signing and collaborating on. “Seven years away from the capital, huh? That’s quite a while.”

“For this to be successful,” Garon starts, “the two children need to spend a considerable amount of time learning and engaging in the other’s culture. On top of the basics of royalty, such as etiquette and delegation with foreign powers. It’s a lot to learn.”

“No, no I understand.” Sumeragi sets the papers down, then turns to Mikoto. “Well, with Azura being the one to go from Nohr, which of the children did you want to send? Hinoka might calm herself if she’s around Nohrians, and Takumi could also learn to—”

“Kamui,” she replies without hesitation. “It has to be Kamui. She got along well with Azura.”

“But she no longer has a retainer. Or at least for now. Suzukaze won’t be back from his extensive training for some time. Possibly years.”

“I’ll send Yuugiri to watch over her as a temporary substitute. Orochi is enough to protect me.”

When even Arete brings up concerns (no doubt still recovering from the scare of losing her niece), Mikoto explains to the three royals that Kamui cannot be kept locked up forever. Yes she’ll be protected, but she’ll also become socially inept and remain naïve about the world at large. It’ll only endanger her later down the line. Kamui might trust anybody who so much as smiles at her, and that’s not how she wants her girl to interact with the world.

“Crime rates are low in Notre Sagesse,” she adds. “Kamui will be safer there, and at least she’ll have friends in Azura, Jakob and the Ice Tribe twins. Here she won’t get the same experience.”

Sumeragi doesn’t comment on the last bit, for which she’s glad. He above all others should know what she’s referring to. “Very well. We will send Kamui, but not until she’s 10 next June.”

“That’s fine,” Arete replies. “As I’ve said, we still need time to move certain things to the Sagesse mansion and establish a curriculum from which the girls will learn.”

Garon nods in agreement, slowly rising to stand. “We will continue corresponding through the communication stones until the appointed date. For now, we must be on our way. Sumeragi,” he holds out his hand for a shake, “until we meet again.”

“Likewise, Garon.” The Hoshidan king rises to grasp the other’s hand firmly. “We’ve already started preparation of our own. Come next June, everything will be ready.”

He walks with Garon back down the several floors to the entrance. Arete lags behind, strolling after them with Mikoto. She’s silent as they descend the three floors, and then says, “I’ll have Gunter be appointed as well.”

“But you only have one retainer: him.”

“I’m fine on my own, Mikoto. Azura’s safety is more important. Besides, somebody needs to be there to properly train Jakob and the girls. Especially Felicia.”

“Only if you’re certain.”

Arete places a hand on her shoulder, grip gentle yet firm. “My family comes first, before anything else. Gunter is around the same age as Yuugiri anyway, or at least I believe so. They’ll hopefully get along better because of that.”

“Yuugiri is about 10 years younger, I think.”

“Numbers like that stop mattering once your bones begin to creak,” Arete jokes. “Then everyone feels ancient, regardless of who’s got more seniority.”

Mikoto chuckles. “I suppose you’re right.”

She and Sumeragi wave goodbye once Garon and Arete are in their carriage. Xander watches from the window looking skyward and gives a wave, before Garon says something that has him sit back down in his seat. Mikoto glances in the direction he had been looking at, and finds Kamui sitting on her balcony some floors up, looking down at the scene and giving her own little wave. No doubt she’s disheartened to have a new friend leave so soon, especially right after her other one.

But perhaps that might change in the future.

When the Nohrians are all gone, Mikoto makes her way up to Kamui’s room. It’s in the royal wing at a corner, in between Ryoma’s room, and the bedchambers Mikoto shares with Sumeragi. Normally, it would’ve been placed between Hinoka’s room and that of Takumi’s so as to keep the birth order chronological. But as nobody accounted for Sumeragi to marry again, they had to make do with the circumstances.

An aesthetic perk of having a room in the royal quarters is that the sliding doors are usually painted with whatever the inhabitant wants. But as Kamui is a last-minute addition to the family, her doors are left plain. The artist usually appointed for this is currently painting some other things for a noble family a few provinces away. After that, he has more work to do for some other aristocrats. It’ll be a while until the Hoshidan crown can hire him again.

Inside the room, a small bed rests against the wall and a chest with Kamui’s clothing is at the foot of it. A low shelf with some paper, brushes, and inks are also there for her in case she gets bored. There’s a small potted plant on top of the shelf, and Kamui wants it there in case a beetle or some other harmless insect ‘visits’ her on the balcony. At the other end of the room is a small round table with cushions underneath it, and a much larger chest with blankets for the winter. A mirror is the only thing hanging on the wall.

One element that isn’t supposed to be Kamui’s room, however, is Kaze.

Mikoto catches him there when she steps inside, and he bows as he apologizes for his presence.

“I’m sorry, your majesty,” he says. “But I just wanted to say good bye to Lady Kamui.”

“You’re gonna leave forever?” Kamui frowns, tugging on his sleeve. “But you’re my friend! You promised!”

“No, I’m not going to be away forever.” He smiles at her, reaching into his vest. In his palm is another small wooden animal, a bird this time. “But I wanted to give this to you since I couldn’t do it before. Happy Late Birthday, Lady Kamui.”

She giggles, taking the bird in her hands. “It’s so cute! Look, Mama!”

The bird is as simplistic as the rabbit, although the legs and beak are painted. It probably took Kaze a while to make this considering he doesn’t get a lot of breaks from his training. “This is lovely, Kaze. Thank you for thinking of her.”

“You’re welcome, milady.”

Kamui runs to her shelf and places the bird next to the rabbit. Then she rummages for something among her drawings. “How long will you be away?” Mikoto asks Kaze.

“My father said until he feels I’m ready to protect a member of the royal family. That usually means a few years. I won’t see anybody in this castle again until I’m a lot older.”

“Well, think of it this way: it’ll be a wonderful surprise to see you once Kamui returns.”

Tilting his head, Kaze asks, “Is she going somewhere for a long time too?”

“She’ll be part of an ambassador program in Notre Sagesse that the Hoshidan crown and the Nohrian one have collaborated on. About seven years she’ll be there, starting next year.”

“Oh, I see. That’s… a long time.”

Kamui pads up to them with a drawing in her hand. She waves it in Kaze’s face. “I made this for you! You said you’d be gone for a while, so take this so you don’t forget me!”

It’s an illustration of herself and Kaze, sitting on a branch of a tree. They’re eating peaches, or at least that’s what Mikoto thinks those pink orbs are. For once Kamui didn’t draw herself as a demon, but a normal child. Albeit in her ‘peasant’ clothes, but perhaps that’s how she sees herself now instead of a ‘monster’. Considering everything that’s happened so far, Mikoto isn’t sure if that’s a good thing.

He smiles at the picture once it’s in his hands, and gives a soft laugh. “Thank you, milady. I promise I’ll always keep it close. But I won’t ever forget you, okay? You promise not to forget me?”

“Of course! I won’t forget, Kaze! And when you come back, you’re gonna be the _greatest_ ninja ever! And retainer! I know you will, so try hard okay?”

“I will.” Gently he folds the drawing into fours, and stores it in a hidden pocket among his garbs. “Well, I better get going. Goodbye for now, Queen Mikoto. And I’ll see you when we’re older, Princess Kamui.”

She nods, bouncing on her feet. Then she wraps him in a big embrace, pressing her cheek to his chest and giggling. “Good luck, Kaze!” She gets on her tip-toes and places a quick kiss on his cheek (she learned that from Felicia, probably), leaving him staring at her with wide eyes. “Remember, don’t forget!”

“I-I… I won’t. I promise.”

Kaze bows to both of them, and then heads off to the balcony. He stops for just a moment, placing a hand on the cheek Kamui had pecked. His back is to them so Mikoto can’t read his expression, but she’s sure he’s all shades of embarrassed. Poor boy probably gets little to no affection from his community or family, save for his mother. Being a ninja so young must be taxing on the mind. It’s no wonder they’re not much for conversation.

He looks back to them now and gives a small wave. (His cheeks are somewhat pink.) Then he jumps off the railing, and disappears over the edge. Kamui runs to the balcony, but he’s nowhere to be found. “That’s so cool. Mama, I wanna disappear like that.”

“Let’s hope you don’t, my sweet.”

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


The celebration for Kamui’s belated birthday is held the next weekend. Only the family partakes in it. Trust in the Shirasagi populace has been low for obvious reasons, so there’s no need to throw a city-wide party. The chefs cook all of Kamui’s favorite dishes and desserts (mainly with peaches), and she eats three servings of everything. Mikoto can only assume dragon hybrids get hungrier much quicker than normal humans.

Hinoka is the only quiet one at the table, mumbling a simple ‘Happy Birthday Kamui’ at the end of dinner. She no longer looks at the girl with contempt, but instead guilt. Kamui is apprehensive in approaching her as well, still feeling like Hinoka hates her. She instead spends her time playing with Takumi, and riding on Ryoma’s shoulders to prove to her that he’s gotten stronger with his training.

As the days follow, Hinoka continues to be a quiet presence within the castle. Even when she gets hurt during training, she cries a lot less. It’s to the point where Mikoto becomes concerned when she’s only heard 20 words total that whole week from her step-daughter.

One morning, she waits for Hinoka at the training grounds. It’s warm now, and it’s likely going to be an extra hot day later. Hinoka comes around the corner, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. The wooden naginata drags against the dirt in her other hand. She stops when she sees Mikoto, then glances to the ground.

“I have to train,” she says quietly. The princess holds the weapon with both hands, close against her chest. “Because then I have lessons in the afternoon.”

“The sun hasn’t even risen yet,” Mikoto points out. “ _Ryoma_ is still asleep, even. And he gets up earlier than your father at times.”

Hinoka chews on her lip, still staring at the floor. “I take breaks. I eat breakfast after I warm up, and then I keep training until noon. Ryoma says I have to, otherwise I’ll get exhausted fast. And that’s not what I want.”

“Well I’m glad for that.”

She looks up at Mikoto from beneath her messy bangs, crimson irises curious. “Why are you up so early?”

“I couldn’t sleep very comfortably.” Mikoto sits down on the terrace, patting the spot next to her. Hesitantly, Hinoka walks over and takes a seat. She still hasn’t let go of her practice naginata. “Guess I’m still recovering from the scare of almost losing Kamui.”

“Father won’t tell me what happened,” Hinoka mumbles, “like all the details. And Kamui avoids me, so…”

“Isn’t that what you wanted? For Kamui to leave you alone?”

Hinoka swings her legs back and forth, staring at her sandals. Her weapon rests at her side. “Yeah, kinda. But now I feel bad. She’s always playing with Takumi, or watching Ryoma train. She cheers him on and even brings him fruit and stuff when he takes breaks. But when she sees me, she only says a quick ‘hi’ and then leaves. It feels ugly….”

“Maybe you should talk to her about it.”

“She’ll just keep avoiding me ‘cause of all the stuff I said to her— _about_ her.” Hinoka’s hands ball into fists. “I’m really, really sorry that those men took her. I shouldn’t have yelled at her and said all those mean things. But I…,” she swallows, eyes becoming glossy, “everything was happening so fast. I thought Father stopped loving Mother because he was getting married to you, a-and then I remembered how sick Mother looked before she died and you could’ve helped find a cure for her if you stayed in Izumo longer and just focused on that. But you were also looking into why Kamui is a dragon so you got distracted with your training. And then you left early to come back to Kamui ‘cause she transformed.”

“I cared a lot about your mother, if that helps,” offers Mikoto. “In fact, I didn’t want to marry your father at first because I too felt like I’d be replacing her. She was a dear friend, and I still miss her to this day.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Mikoto smooths out Hinoka’s hair with a hand. “But I made a promise to myself, and to her, that I’d watch over the children she loved so much. Your father may love me, but never as much as Ikona. I know he still wishes she was alive, and so do I.”

“Oh. But then you wouldn’t be queen.”

“No, I wouldn’t. But it’d be okay if that would’ve happened. I’d still have Kamui, and that’s all that matters.”

The girl picks at a chip from the wooden handle of the weapon. It breaks off, and she squashes it between her nails. “Does Kamui hate me?”

“She doesn’t.”

“But she should.”

“And why is that?”

Hinoka keeps her head down, staring at her lap. “Because I didn’t get to Father and Ryoma in time, and then those men took her. She could’ve died. And even though I said all those mean things to her, she still saved me. She attacked those men so I could escape. And sh-she’s so little.  _I_ should’ve been the one protecting her; I’m older. But I was being a baby, and she got kidnapped because of it. Ryoma was _so_ mad at me; he didn’t talk to me for like four days.”

“But he forgave you eventually. Right?”

Shrugging, she replies, “Yeah, I guess. But I’ll never forget how he looked at me, and how worried Takumi got. Sakura was the only one who wasn’t upset, but she’s 5 so she doesn’t understand a lot anyway.”

“Well,” Mikoto folds her hands on her lap, “you can try talking to Kamui after your training. She might seem shy or sad at first, but deep down she still wants to be your friend. You’re always going to feel like this if you don’t communicate.”

“Kamui won’t run away?”

Mikoto smiles. “No, she won’t. In fact, she’ll be happy you’re speaking to her again.”

“Oh, well, then okay. I’ll talk to her later, maybe.” Hinoka gives Mikoto a glance, and then focuses her attention on the dirt below her. “Do you hate me, Miss Mikoto? It’s my fault Kamui got kidnapped. Because I yelled at her and ran, and then she followed me.”

“I don’t hate you, Hinoka. I know you’re still mourning your mother, and I’d never blame a child for that. But I do feel that you should think before you speak. Or at the very least, have told an adult about how you were feeling. It’s not good to bottle up your emotions because then things like this happen. Okay?”

Hinoka nods, wiping at her eyes with her wrist. “I’ll tell somebody next time.”

“Glad to hear that. And sweetie,” Hinoka gives her another glance, “I know I’m not your real mother, but I would like to be one for you. If you want, of course. I’m here if you need to talk about anything.”

“…Maybe later.”

Well, it’s progress at least. Perhaps when Kamui goes to Notre Sagesse, that’ll give Mikoto more time to bond with Sumeragi’s children. Hinoka will be first on her list.

The sun finally peaks along the horizon, painting the skies a gradient of pinks, purples, and deep violets. A dash of orange begins to brighten the landscape, and the stars fade away.

“I better start training.” Hinoka stands, picking up her weapon. “And I have a goal now, so it should be easier to get through all the exercises.”

“Oh, what’s your goal?”

She pauses, staring at the sun in the distance. Then Hinoka says, “I’m gonna train hard so Kamui can be proud of me too like she is with Ryoma, and so she doesn’t have to protect me all the time. Big sisters are supposed to take care of the little ones. Right?”

Mikoto’s smile grows wider, hope blooming in her chest. “Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We won't see Kaze again for the rest of part 1, but he'll be a constant throughout parts 2 & 3, so that'll make up for it. Ha ha.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	29. XXIX

It isn’t until the next week that Hinoka finally approaches Kamui about her concerns. Mikoto is only witness to it because of a late morning stroll, one Hinoka accompanies her on after training. When Mikoto had asked why, the girl replied, “She’ll eventually come and find you, so…”

Ryoma and Kamui happen to be by the ‘official’ peach tree of the royal gardens. It’s the only one of its kind, being enchanted to bear fruit for nine months out of the year. From the looks of things, they’re trying to pick some of the peaches, at least ones within reach. Kamui is on his shoulders, stretching her arms as far as they’ll go to grab the most saturated of the bunch.

“There she is.” Mikoto places a gentle hand on Hinoka’s back, urging her forward. “Why don’t you talk to her now?”

“You sure she won’t run away?”

“I’m sure.”

Hinoka reluctantly approaches her elder brother and Kamui. When they spot her, Ryoma sets Kamui down and then she inches behind him, staring at the peach in her palm. Hinoka fidgets with her hands, brushing them on her pants.

“Uh, h-hey,” she starts. “What’re you guys doing?”

“Picking peaches so we can eat them later,” replies Ryoma. “Kamui wanted to climb up there by herself, but she might fall so I offered to help her.”

“Oh, okay.” Hinoka scratches at her head, foot drawing shapes in the dirt. “Hey, Ryo, uh, I kinda wanna talk to Kamui alone.”

“Why?”

“There’re things I have to say. And stuff.”

Ryoma gives his sister a pointed look. “You’re not gonna tell her more awful stuff, are you?” He curls an arm around Kamui’s shoulders. She still doesn’t look up from the peach. Only grips his vest with her free hand, pressing herself closer to his side.

“No, no I promise. That’s not what I wanna say.”

Mikoto walks forward, smiling at the children. “It’s alright, Ryoma. Let Hinoka talk to her; it’s long overdue.”

He gives a weak grunt and then steps away from the two girls. “I’m gonna pick more peaches,” he says, going behind the tree. “But I’ll make sure to leave some for you, okay Kamui?”

She nods, not looking up from her attentive stare on the fruit in her hand. Then the boy disappears up the tree, his presence only evident through the rustling of the leaves from above. Hinoka looks up to him, then focuses her attention back on Mikoto. The woman continues to smile, nodding toward her daughter.

“Um,” starts Hinoka, “so… how are you today, Kamui?”

“…I’m fine,” she replies quietly. “Was watching Ryoma train in the morning, and then I got hungry so we came to pick peaches. But if you wanna be here too, then I can leave.”

“No, that’s not what I want.”

Kamui pulls at the stem of the peach. “I know you hate me, Hinoka. And it’s okay. I can leave for real if you really want. Don’t yell at me anymore, please. I don’t like being yelled at.”

“I don’t hate you, Kamui.”

“But you said—”

“Yeah well past-me was dumb,” Hinoka retorts. “I shouldn’t have said all those things to you ‘cause they were mean and I made you cry really bad and then you got kidnapped. And then you saved me even though I said all those mean things! You could’ve died but you wanted to protect me.”

Pausing first, Kamui replies, “You looked really scared. And if you died, then Ryoma and Takumi would be really sad, and so would King Sumeragi. I like them, and I didn’t want them to be sad. And I felt bad for making you cry and for your mama dying because I turned into a dragon and took the attention away from her when she was sick.”

“That’s not your fault. You didn’t know you were a dragon and Genkei was being mean to you and so was everyone else. And I was supposed to protect you because I’m the older one but instead all I did was cry when those men took us and _you_ were the one who saved me even though you’re so little. Then Ryoma was _super_ mad at me for days and Miss Mikoto cried a lot because she thought you were dead and Father scolded me and—”

Hinoka looks away, frowning. She clutches the bottom end of her vest, swallowing what might be a sob. “I’m so sorry, Kamui. You’re not a monster or a peasant or any of those other awful things I said. I was still just really sad my mother is gone, but I know now that it’s not your fault. Everything was happening so fast and I-I just really miss her. I’m really sorry, Kamui. I don’t hate you.”

“But you sounded like you meant it….,” Kamui mumbles.

“Maybe—well, yeah I did kinda hate you before but,” Hinoka shakes her head, hands curling into fists, “but I don’t anymore! I promise! You’re my sis—well, I mean I still don’t think of you like my real sister b-but that doesn’t mean I don’t wanna be your friend, or try to hang out with you more.”

Kamui looks up at her beneath her lashes, mouth in a tight line. “You promise you don’t hate me anymore?”

“I promise!  _You_ should hate _me_ because of everything I did. Why don’t you hate me?”

The girl shrugs, turning her attention back to the peach. She’s carved a little triangle in the flesh of it with her fingernail. “Because I’d be really mad and sad too if Mama died or if she got sick and nobody helped her. I don’t like to think about her dying, and Miss Ikona was a nice lady. So is my mama. And I wouldn’t want to feel like that. And I’m used to people calling me names and being mean to me, ‘cause everyone else does it except for Ryoma and Takumi and Kaze. Mama, Orochi, and Yuugiri too. So it’s normal.”

“No it shouldn’t be normal!” Hinoka places her hands on Kamui’s shoulders, and the latter looks up at her with wide eyes. “It’s bad that people treat you that way! Don’t get used to it! Y-You don’t deserve that and you’re a princess now so if anyone else is mean to you, tell me and I’ll beat them up!”

“…I’m really a princess?”

“Yeah! You’re a part of this family now so we can protect you, okay? I’ll train really hard so you don’t have to save me again because I’m the big sister and I’m supposed to protect the little ones, like you.”

Kamui stares at the ground again, then asks, “If we can’t be sisters, then can we be friends, Hinoka?”

“Of course, yeah. Yeah we can be friends.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

For a moment, Kamui is silent. Then she mumbles, “Okay, then I forgive you,” now picking at a blemish on the peach. Hinoka utters a small ‘thanks’ and tries to smile. When Kamui doesn’t look at her, Hinoka asks, “Can I have a hug, please?” stretching out her arms. “Uh, if you want to.”

At this, Kamui meets her eyes, and smiles. With a nod, she wraps her arms around Hinoka in a tight embrace only a child can give. The older girl is quick to return the gesture, biting her lip as her eyes water. Mikoto knows she’s trying her hardest not to cry (as part of her training, apparently) but there’s never anything wrong with weeping. Maybe that knowledge will come with her maturity, whenever that is.

Ryoma jumps down from the tree, a few peaches nestled in his arm. He tosses one to Hinoka, but she misses it and it hits her on the elbow. “Hey I wasn’t ready you jerk!”

“You should train harder then. Reflexes kinda suck still.”

Hinoka huffs, picks up the peach and then tosses it back to him with a shout. Ryoma laughs, and Kamui rushes to the peach to dust the dirt off of it. “No it’s good fruit! You guys are gonna waste it!”

Mikoto chuckles, walking over to them. “Come on, let’s take those inside to wash and then have a snack.”

The three children don’t waste any time and hurry through the garden to the castle. Kamui jumps on Ryoma’s back and climbs up to his shoulders, apparently her favorite place to sit now. Hinoka steals a peach from her brother’s arms and then sprints away as he calls after her about ‘cheating’. Kamui only giggles, already eating the peach she had picked up from the ground moments ago. The dirt probably doesn’t bother her as it would with regular humans.

Hopefully the castle will be a little less chaotic now, and Kamui can be nurtured in an environment that accepts her for who she is, instead of what she isn’t.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


While not everyone in the castle has fully accepted Kamui as royalty, their nuclear family no longer has qualms about it. Ryoma has seen her as another little sister of sorts since the wedding, and Hinoka gets used to the reality of it by September (though still hasn’t outright referred to her as a sister). Takumi doesn’t seem to mind the change in dynamic at all. It’s possible he just doesn’t understand yet, or even cares. Either way, he continues to spend time with Kamui as they play outside or whenever they take lessons together with Yukimura.

There is one thing, however, that Kamui isn’t allowed to do like the other royal children. And that’s to train with a weapon.

She asks Mikoto about it one late afternoon toward the end of the year. Takumi had just taken interest in archery, and had said for his 8th birthday he wants a yumi and some arrows. Sumeragi is delighted, of course. (Ryoma was never all that interested in archery, or the hunting that goes along with it.) But as for Kamui, the reminder she still doesn’t fit in completely returns to haunt her.

“I asked the lady at the armory thing,” she begins as Mikoto brushes her hair. She likes to get in a few strokes before Kamui goes to bed. It helps soothe her to sleep. “But she said I can’t. And then I asked why ‘cause Takumi is my age—no I’m _older_ than him! And so I asked why and she said because of ‘orders’.”

The obvious is that, once again, the council is ‘advising’ she not practice with any weapon. Of course, Sumeragi didn’t _tell_ her when this was decided. She wonders what else he’s enacted without her say in the matter. He was never like this with Ikona; the man always asked for her input before coming to a final decision. She was the last person he always consulted once he had the rest of his options laid out, and she’d help with picking the best choice of the lot.

Perhaps she ought to start inviting herself into these meetings. Or make a camp outside the door to the advising chambers so she’ll always be ready.

“What sort of weapon did you want to wield, Kamui?” asks Mikoto.

“I dunno, Mama. All of them look cool. I asked Sakura what she wants as a weapon but she didn’t answer me. She’s really shy.”

“Sakura is only 5, sweetie. I don’t think she quite understands yet what having a weapon means.”

“Yeah I guess that’s true.”

Kamui doesn’t bring it up again. Instead she watches all of her step-siblings practice with the tools. Every night, she tells Mikoto about Ryoma’s quick slices with the katana against the training dummies, or Hinoka learning how to twirl with the naginata so she can knock her enemies over in one broad sweep. And Takumi hasn’t hit the bullseye on a target yet, but he always gets extremely close, even so early on in his training. All the Hoshidan royal children seem to have amazing potential when it comes to combat. Though Mikoto hopes nothing major happens that they’d have to use it when risking the threat of imminent death.

The potential for Kamui to face a similar predicament is what has Mikoto forcing herself into the next advisory meeting two days later. Sumeragi doesn’t mind; merely laughs as she plops down next to him. The rest of the bodies in the room only frown, giving her a look but otherwise keep their mouths shut.

“Queen Mikoto,” one man starts, his white beard hanging halfway down his torso, “I see you’re joining us today.”

“Yes I am. There’s a topic I need to discuss, and it concerns Kamui.”

“We were actually going to speak of adjusting trade agreements with Nohr and renew our pact with the various ninja clans around Hoshido. But of course; your daughter is of the utmost importance.”

If he wants to be facetious, let him be. She has little tolerance for any further disrespect to her child, especially from a relic. “Thank you. I want to begin by saying there are high hopes for the royal children. I’ve watched them train for a few weeks now, and I think they’ll be fine warriors when they’re older. However, I did find out that Kamui isn’t allowed a weapon, and that the keeper of the armory was told to prohibit her entry. Why is that? I have yet to hear of this.”

One of the elder ladies gives a sigh, closing her eyes. She has far too much cosmetic paint on. Perhaps it’s to draw attention away from her wrinkles. “Your majesty,” she begins, “it’s become apparent that Princess Kamui is already her own weapon. Giving her another one would complicate things.”

“How? She doesn’t even know how to properly utilize her dragon form.”

“Exactly. You can’t make her train with a new weapon when she doesn’t even know how to wield her current one.”

“Besides,” a second man speaks up, one of his eyes closed, “we believe it’s best if she stays away from weaponry of any kind. As Lord Sumeragi had told us some time ago, Chief Isamu of the Flame Tribe believes she might be a demigoddess. No other living person can turn into a dragon—it’s mythical, even. Only the very first generation of royals that founded Hoshido and Nohr were able to do it. If it’s truly the case that her mysterious father was in fact a remaining dragon god in disguise as a human, it’s best she be protected.”

“You mean it’s best if she’s locked up. Again.”

“No,” the elder woman says, looking at her, “that isn’t what we’re saying. We just believe—should it be true that a demigoddess is in our presence—she needn’t worry about how she’ll protect herself. The ninja boy Suzukaze will not return to aid her for quite some time. Years, is what Saizo the Fourth had said. We also have no other retainers available for her.”

Oh they have plenty of strong soldiers in the Hoshidan army. What the woman should really say is that nobody wants to do it because they find Kamui odd or a nuisance.

“Mikoto, if it helps,” Sumeragi starts, “all of her step-siblings are training in part because they want to keep her safe. Not just out of duty as royals. Kamui needn’t dirty her hands. Plus, she’ll be in the ambassador program soon enough. There would be no use teasing her with a weapon only to have it taken away so quickly.”

“Yuugiri can train her in the naginata or even with archery.”

“Neither household in Notre Sagesse has an area big enough for adequate training, I’m afraid.”

More excuses fly at her about how Kamui should focus on taming the dragon within. They’re not wrong, but the only problem is that there isn’t anyone else in the whole world who could help her train aside from her real father. A father who cannot ever see her again, or who might not even be alive anymore. Meanwhile, there are several instructors for all sorts of weapons. From the smallest shuriken to the longest spear, and even the most potent healing stave.

But she doesn’t bother arguing. Soon Kamui will be in Notre Sagesse, and she won’t have to deal with the nonsense from narrow-minded aristocrats.

She forgets the topic as the months pass. Arete communicates via enchanted opal about any updates on the ambassador project. As Garon is dealing with small uprisings in Nohr, he’s left his wife and queen to handle the remainder of the project. On the Hoshidan side of things, Sumeragi does give his input, but otherwise lets Mikoto delegate however she sees fit.

Kamui doesn’t think about the reality she’ll be gone for seven years. She doesn’t even bring it up until after Ryoma’s 15th birthday in early May, and even then, it’s only briefly.

The morning of, Mikoto and the children convene in one of the common rooms of the castle. Since marrying into their family last year, they’ve continued to warm up to her gradually through the seasons. Ryoma was the first to do so, perhaps understanding the situation with much more clarity. Being the eldest sibling usually has that effect.

“Aww, I’m gonna miss all the measuring when I’m gone!” Kamui whines, bouncing on her heels.

“Hold still, my love. Or I’ll get charcoal in your hair.”

“It’s just a tiny bit, Mama.”

“Yes, but Orochi worked so hard on making it look nice and putting those pretty hairpins in. You don’t want all her effort to go to waste, do you?”

“No….”

She pouts and stands still as Mikoto makes another nick above her head. It joins one of many along the wooden post they’ve assigned to be their height chart. Unsurprisingly, Ryoma is still the tallest at 5’5”, with Hinoka at 5’0”. Kamui manages to scrape by on 4’3”, with Takumi at 4’1”. Sakura is the smallest, coming around at exactly 3’3”. Mikoto has a feeling she’ll remain the tiniest even when all of them have grown.

“Did the birthday boy grow?” Orochi asks, snickering at the numbers. “Oh he _did._ Two whole inches! And yet _still_ not taller than me.” She smirks at him, her tongue sticking out from the corner of her lips.

Ryoma rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Orochi.”

“Ooh, Lady Mikoto, you need to be careful. There’s that teenage attitude coming in on the young prince. Teens can be tough to handle, so I’ll pray for you extra hard. Milord won’t give you trouble then.”

Being 16 herself, Orochi hasn’t changed much since Mikoto first met her. She’s still one of the more jovial people in the castle. The only difference is that her hair is longer and she puts more effort into her appearance, whether by clothes, accessories, or cosmetic paint. Boys her age pay a lot more attention to her now instead of being annoyed by her pranks, although a few are both. Mikoto supposes Orochi can get away with it because of the width of her hips and the size of her breasts.

Puberty is a strange thing indeed. Boys no longer roll their eyes at the thought of being with a girl. Even if said girl finds joy in getting under their skin with her words or (mostly) harmless pranks.

“You’re just _one_ year older than me!” Ryoma retorts, crossing his arms. “Don’t talk like you’re 30! And I only have a single inch to go before I beat you!”

Except Ryoma, apparently.

“Two, actually.” She bops him on the nose with her finger. “Doesn’t count if you match my height.” Ryoma swats her hand away and she laughs that bubbly laugh Mikoto has grown to love, and the one her step-son abhors.

“I’m gonna go,” he huffs out, walking away. “Gonna grab a snack or something before they put everything away.”

“Hey, I wanna come too Ryoma!” Takumi chases after him, as does Sakura. The littlest of the siblings rarely leaves his side. Perhaps she feels the closest to him, being just three years younger. Or, it could be that both Ryoma and Hinoka are simply busy. Kamui isn’t close to her, only because every time she tries, Sakura’s new friend Kazahana tugs her away. Apparently, she wants to grow up to be Sakura’s retainer and therefore needs to protect her from, “any and all threats, like Father said!”

Kamui is evidentially still a threat among the castle network.

“Ryoma seems kinda grumpy,” she says to Orochi. “Does he hate being 15?”

“No, it’s more complicated than that. I mean, being 15 does kinda suck. But he’s probably grumpy ‘cause I offered to give him a fortune earlier.”

“Oh no! Was it a bad one?”

“I couldn’t give it because he immediately walked away! Then again, I don’t think teenage boys wanna think a lot about marriage.” Orochi taps a finger against her lips, cocking her hip to the side as she stares up at the ceiling. “Might be what’s bugging him.”

“Marriage? Why does he gotta think about that?”

She doesn’t get a response for a good silent minute. Orochi looks to Mikoto with a slight frown. “You haven’t explained to her about the _inevitable_ for all royals?”

“Kamui isn’t quite at that age yet where it’s appropriate to talk about.”

“Hey, but I wanna know now!” Kamui crosses her arms and pouts again, slouching slightly. Even in a colorful and lavish kimono, it doesn’t take away the air of ‘commonality’ with her. Or at least, that’s what biased castle staff whisper from time to time. Not very ‘lady-like’.

Orochi looks to Mikoto again, offering, “These types of convos are always awkward to talk about. _But_ , lucky for you Lady Mikoto, I love these sorta topics. I don’t mind explaining it to her with you present. Y’know, for supervision. Some things she really _isn’t_ ready to learn about.”

The only thing Mikoto is truly worried about is whether or not Kamui will want to be married in the future. From current consensus of eligible aristocratic children (and their families), none would want to marry a ‘creature’. It might make her sadder, and Mikoto doesn’t want her to ruminate over such trivial matters.

“ _Pleeease_ , Mama.” Kamui tugs on her sleeve. “I wanna know!”

“Well… alright.”

“Great! So,” Orochi sits, and Kamui plops down right in front of her, “marriage is this thing that two people do when they really love each other and wanna be together forever. It usually involves lots of flowers, good food, and presents!”

Kamui gasps, face lighting up. “Like a birthday?”

“Eh, sorta. But not really. You need to really love the person ‘cause marriage is forever! Until you die or get a divorce anyway. But that’s for another chat. Marriage is great though if the other person truly makes you feel happy.”

“Then why is Ryoma mad?”

“Because guys don’t care about marriage or all that stuff. And the last thing he wants to think about is finding a wife. He’d probably marry his sword if he could. But he’s 15 now, and that’s usually the age people start looking for marriage partners. Or at least nobles do. Ryoma’s gonna have to deal with giggling girls trying to get his attention, starting today. Lots of ‘em will be around to celebrate his birthday.” Orochi chuckles. “He’s gonna look sour the whole time, I can see it now. Man, I wish I could draw.”

Kamui tilts her head, her bangs sweeping to the side. “So marriage is between two people who love each other a lot, and it’s forever?”

“Yup.”

“Then Ryoma doesn’t have to worry!” She rocks back and forth in her seat. “I’ll marry him! That way he’s not grumpy all the time. He makes me happy, and I know he’s happy when I’m there.”

_Oh my._

Clicking her tongue against her teeth, Orochi gives a glance at Mikoto. Then she replies to Kamui, “Y’know, that would be _super_ adorable. Except, there’s several problems with that.”

“Huh? Like what?”

“Uh, well, y’see, you’re kind of like, his sister now. Step-sister, actually. I mean, it’s not that weird I guess for _royalty_ ‘cause it’s happened before in the past under extreme circumstances—like to keep a certain family on the throne. Sometimes with other nobles too. And you aren’t like, related to him outside of the law.” She makes a snide comment under her breath about certain people never forgetting that fact. “But uh, marriage also usually means making a family and… yeah. Dunno how people will take that.”

“But I’m already a part of the family? It’s not any different. I’ll just be double-official family since I’ll be his wife!”

Orochi looks to Mikoto again, cringing. “Maybe your mama should explain it more….”

With a light sigh, Mikoto sits down next to her daughter. “Kamui, what Orochi is trying to say is, if you’re already part of a family, you don’t marry them.”

“Why not?”

“That’s how things are, sweetie. There have been exceptions, but only if the relation is distant, and only as a last resort.” When Kamui’s eyebrows crease in confusion, Mikoto tries a different approach. “Do cousins marry each other?”

“Mama, _no._ That’s weird.”

“Well, that’s sort of the same logic when it comes to you and Ryoma. You wouldn’t want him to marry Hinoka, would you?”

“No, she’s his sister! That’s not what siblings do.”

“Exactly. Do you understand now?”

Kamui ponders on this, staring at her lap, lips in a tight line. “But it’s different with me, right? ‘Cause I’m not actually his sister. Everyone says so. I hear the noble people talk about it a lot if I pass by them. And I don’t want Ryoma to be grumpy if he hates his wife because he has to marry her. He won’t hate me. And then we can make another family once we’re married, like Orochi said!”

“My little dragon, that part of the conversation you’re definitely not ready to hear yet. If it makes you feel any better, I would love it if you could marry Ryoma when you’re grown. But things have changed; we’re part of his family now, so it’s not as simple anymore.”

“Huh, well, I still don’t get it.”

Orochi clears her throat, taking out her cards. “Hey, Kamui, since you’re so hung up about this, I can give you a marriage fortune. You probably won’t ever marry Ryoma, but how about somebody like him? Want me to read your love future? It’s free!”

Kamui giggles, nodding. “Okay!”

The girl watches intently as Orochi lays out the cards with a swipe of her hand, saying her usual incantation for some foresight of the gods. She closes her eyes, concentrating, and then picks up a card without looking at it. Then she picks up two more, fanning the three out along her fingers.

When she opens her eyes, she stares at the cards in silence. Her brows furrow, and Mikoto thinks she hears Orochi mutter a small ‘oh’ before she frowns.

“So?” Kamui bounces where she sits. “What does it say?”

“Er,” she smiles awkwardly, “you’ll marry somebody prince-like. Not a real prince for sure—well I don’t actually know, but somebody prince-ish. But I dunno if that means personality or like an actual prince. Maybe somebody _like_ Ryoma but not exactly—”

“I’m gonna marry Ryoma?!”

“No, no that’s not what I—”

Kamui leans forward, a huge smile on her face. “Are we gonna live happily ever after? Like in the stories?!”

“Uh,” Orochi stacks her cards back in a neat pile, quickly putting them away, “well eventually you’ll be happy but there’s—”

She giggles again, jumping to her feet. “I’m gonna tell Ryoma. Now he doesn’t have to worry about marrying a wife he hates! And if he’s happy, then he’ll be a good king!” She pumps her fist and sprints away before Mikoto can even finish rising to stand.

The look on Orochi’s face is one Mikoto has seen plenty of times before. While most of her fortunes are harmless, some do have more dire meanings. On top of her not being able to control whether the fortune will be good or bad, Mikoto has to wonder how she can keep the will to continue giving them to people. The last terrible fortune had her take a long break from giving any. After Ikona’s death, some nobles blamed Orochi’s family for it. But they’re merely messengers from the gods, and have no say in what should or shouldn’t happen.

“Are you alright?” Mikoto asks her. “Sorry that Kamui got so excited. She still doesn’t understand the complex circumstances of her new life.”

“I’m fine.” Orochi stands up, dusting off her pants. The gold bracelets around her wrists jingle as she does so. “But uh, Lady Mikoto, I feel like I should tell you the entire thing my fortune said. I didn’t wanna damper Kamui’s mood, but I also wasn’t sure if she’d understand. Or even take my fortune seriously if it’s bad.”

“Does that mean the fortune you read was bad?”

“Yes and no.” Orochi crosses her arms, glancing to the side. She bites her pink lips, and then says, “Well, the fortune said a prince is in her romantic future. But it wasn’t clear if it meant actual royalty, or just a man with princely qualities, like manners, chivalry, kindness, and stuff like that. That’s the good news.”

“And what’s the bad news?”

“The bad news is that Kamui isn’t going to get that happily ever after with this person right away. There’s a long period of suffering first. How bad that suffering will be, I-I don’t actually know.” Orochi finally looks at her, still frowning. “I’m sorry, Lady Mikoto.”

She should’ve expected as much. Considering the fate on her shoulders and that of her small Vallite family, she’s not surprised Kamui will continue to be affected by it. A part of her wants to ask Orochi for another fortune to further understand what’s in store for Kamui’s future. But a greater portion would rather be kept ignorant. Even if she did know what was to come, she can’t change it.

“It’s not your fault, Orochi,” Mikoto says gently. “As sad as it is, I’m going to keep expecting things like this to happen. Both to Kamui, and to me.”

“That sucks though. Milady, you shouldn’t think that way.”

Mikoto gives her a weak smile. “Perhaps not. But I need to be realistic about things. I can’t afford senseless idealism as a queen. As a commoner, it was easier. But now I have more than one person to watch over—an entire country, even.”

Orochi doesn’t reply to that. She simply continues to frown and mutters another apology for a bad fortune. “I’ll explain more to Kamui about this whole thing when she’s older,” Mikoto assures. “You don’t need to fret so much over something you didn’t choose to give.”

“I know, but now I’m gonna be worried about what that fortune really means.”

“You shouldn’t; it won’t change anything. Kamui is a child, and might always be soft even when she’s grown. But she has a strong constitution. She will survive the obstacles in her path.”

“How do you know?”

“A mother always knows.”

_That, and if she’s anything like her father, she’ll endure even walking right up to the slaughterhouse alone if it means others can be spared the suffering._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like now is a good time to talk about this.
> 
> Romance is going to be a subplot of parts 2 & 3, and if you guessed that it has to do with Kamui, then you'd be right. I won't go into too much detail, but I've already dropped hints throughout part 1 as to who is a potential love interest for her. (And some of these potentials have yet to appear.) They may be mutual, temporary, or one-sided. And some may also be obvious, or more subtle.
> 
> On a related note, the most frequent topic of vitriol among the FE14 community are the Kamui/Royal ships. There may or may not be some of that romantic tease among said ships (minus Azura) in parts 2 & 3, so I'm not sure how it's going to be received when the time comes. I mean, this _is_ an AU where I've attempted to remedy that so it isn't strange. For the most part, anyway (I think). I hope the way I explain it/set it up reads as plausible. If it doesn't, and you're still sort of weirded out and want to drop this 3-part story, I understand; no worries. But I wanted to give everyone a fair warning, just in case. Thanks for reading up to this point regardless. :)
> 
> That's all I have to say for now.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	30. XXX

It takes a while to prepare for Kamui’s departure.

Her clothes—both casual and formal—are packed first in a trunk. In a separate box, her paints and paper are neatly stored along with the one doll that she owns. That part doesn’t take much time. It’s everything else needed to sustain her for seven years that keeps them busy for an entire day.

Non-perishable food and other resources need to be stored in the caravan. Chickens and a rooster are caged along with a baby goat bleating right beside them. (She’s to be used for milk and cheese as an adult; a Nohrian cuisine trend with growing popularity in Hoshido.) Blankets and dishware are stacked up against a corner next to sacks of rice and rice flour. A few pouches of seeds are nestled in a small box. These are to be planted throughout the seasons so both Kamui and Azura can learn the art of ikebana. Seeds of other vegetables and fruit are also packed alongside them, each labeled properly.

Medicine, spare weapons for Yuugiri, horse feed, a variety of teas, cutlery, academic scrolls, and many more living necessities are finally all packed into the three inventory caravans the night before the departure. Unlike the caravans used for merchants and commoners, these are heavily fortified with the best wood and metal, the tarps made out of various animal hides and textiles. After all, it would be an annoyance to have bandits or some other ruffian try and steal their resources.

The horses pulling these heavy loads are to remain in Notre Sagesse. Later they’ll be used for horseback riding lessons as well as beasts of burden on the trip home after the seven-year period. Kamui wanted to take a puppy with her after seeing that Ryoma got one for his birthday, but Mikoto had to politely deny her of the luxury.

Once the morning comes of the big day, Mikoto has her eat a big breakfast and take a nice bath. She won’t be able to for a few days, and so opts to pack a few scented oils along with her other personal items. Kamui doesn’t say much when she finally gets seated in the carriage. Even having Ryoma there to escort her to the island doesn’t make her smile for long.

“Are you okay, Kamui?” he asks when they’re well beyond the gate of Shirasagi. “You’ve been kinda quiet since we left.”

“I’m gonna miss the castle,” she mumbles. “And I wanted to play with your new puppy. He’s cute and soft.”

Ryoma smiles. “I’m sure there are puppies in Notre Sagesse that you can adopt.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

She stares out the window, watching the river and trees pass them by. The carriage sways ever so slightly whenever it goes over a rock or some little mound on the dirt road. Mikoto passes the time by asking Ryoma what his plans are when he returns to Shirasagi. He’s a little nervous to be getting more responsibility, but is looking forward to a newer and intense training regime.

“I really want to wield the Raijinto,” he says. “Every ruling king or queen of Hoshido from my family line has been worthy of it so far. If it won’t accept me, then I don’t deserve the crown.”

“That’s not true. You can still be a good monarch even without a divine weapon.”

“But Father got accepted by it when he was around my age. Before that, my grandmother had wielded it. And before her, it was my great-grandmother, then before that it was _her_ father, and so on.”

“The Fujin Yumi was also wielded by royals too.”

“Yeah, but it was always like, the king or queen’s spouse or some other member of the royal family. I _need_ to have Raijinto; everyone in the court says so. I won’t be satisfied until it accepts me as its new master, so that’s why I’m gonna train hard so I can be worthy of it.”

He huffs, blowing the dark brown bangs out of his face. His hair has gotten longer since last year. Long enough to the point where he needs to tie it up now so it doesn’t get in his face as he’s training. The noble girls certainly liked it when he wore it up on his birthday.

“So,” Mikoto decides to change the subject; no matter what she says on the matter, she’s sure Ryoma won’t stop worrying about it, “your father tells me a few young girls your age have been selected for courtship throughout the coming years. Their parents are very excited, and the girls themselves wouldn’t stop giggling and sighing.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” groans Ryoma, lolling his head back. “Do I _really_ need to get married? Father says I have to make a decision by the time I’m 18, maybe 20. Or something. He doesn’t want me to marry when I’m ‘too old’ like he did.”

“That’s our system, my son.”

“Hinoka can just be like the substitute queen or whatever until _she_ gets married to some guy. She’s the first princess anyway. Then _maybe_ I’ll think about finding someone after.”

Kamui turns her attention to him, tugging on his sleeve. “But I told you about Orochi’s fortune, remember? I’ll marry you when we’re adults so that way you won’t get stuck with a wife you hate. You won’t hate me. …Right?”

He chuckles, and places a gentle hand on her head. “I could never hate you, Kamui. And if that’s what things come to, then yeah, we’ll get married.”

“Yay!” she exclaims with a giggle. “I’m going to Notre Sagesse to learn how to be more like a noble and stuff, so when I get back, I’ll be more ‘lady-like’. I promise to be a good wife and queen!”

“Ryoma…,” Mikoto shakes her head slowly, clicking her tongue against her teeth, “don’t encourage her please. You’re old enough to know why that would be strange.”

“I already asked Father about it,” he replies. “He only said as an _absolute_ last resort—which means ‘no’ in his language. Not until I at least try to court and socialize with the other noble ladies, anyway. But marrying Kamui will keep her in our family so nobody can take her away to abuse her power, right?”

Sighing, Mikoto rubs her temple with delicate fingers. “Sumeragi really does need to communicate more with me. But let’s not talk further about this. It isn’t the time and place.”

He gives a hum, and it’s only when Kamui is back to gazing out the window does he mouth the sentence, ‘I’m just playing along with her, don’t worry,’ all the while shaking his head.

While a relief to hear, she worries if her daughter is going to continue to hold onto this silly notion. Hopefully she discards it by the time she returns to Hoshido after the project. And maybe by then, Ryoma would have also found a woman he wants to eventually call his wife.

The matter is successfully dropped for the remainder of their trip. Though he doesn’t take Kamui's fantasy seriously, Mikoto can’t exactly disagree entirely either; Ryoma does make a convincing point. It’s inevitable Kamui won’t be able to hide her dragon form, especially under emotional duress. Her existence alone could be used as some kind of leverage against the crown should the wrong aristocratic family find out about it. Marrying him would keep her the safest to an extent, though the decision has the potential to also be widely criticized.

But is the other option worth it? Her staying single because nobody wants to marry a ‘monster’? Will her loneliness just be an ‘unfortunate’ drawback? How long will she live feeling unworthy of someone’s romantic love because of what she is? Or platonic love, even? If there’s anything to go by from the last council meeting, they don’t seem to care all that much about her feelings. Only what would be best for the kingdom, even if it means forcing someone to sacrifice their autonomy.

_Royals don’t marry for love, right. I wished for her to be part of a regal family again, and I got what I wanted. Now I have to deal with the strings attached, and so does she._

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


They arrive in Notre Sagesse in about a week and three days. Mikoto has to convince Ryoma to stay put in the carriage and not jump out to walk alongside the infantry. He’s only here on the trip because Sumeragi wants him to go out into the world now that he’s of age to be more independent. Originally, he was to go alone with Kamui, but Mikoto outright refused to stay in the castle while her daughter and step-son were to take such a long trip without parental supervision. (Even with Yuugiri there, it’s not the same.) Sumeragi tried to talk her out of it, but Ryoma didn’t mind when it was brought up, and so here she is.

It takes a few hours to unload everything in the Hoshidan villa. As it’s occupied only whenever the royal family is there, it doesn’t house many objects except for the standard exquisite furniture. Housekeeping lives on the bottom floor, so it’s not like they make use of the other rooms.

“Am I gonna stay here?” Kamui asks, wandering around the trimmed garden. “It’s nice. I like the pond and all the moss. The koi fish too!”

“Well you will eventually,” Mikoto explains. “You’re going to be moving back and forth every 6 months or so between our villa and the Nohrian mansion. Some of your things will stay here, and others you’ll keep over there.”

“Oh okay.” She holds her hands behind her back, smiling as she rhythmically steps on the flat stones laid out between the sand garden and the flowerbed. “Do you think Azura will like me, Mama? I didn’t really get to talk to her a lot last time.”

“I think so, yes. She’s sort of shy, so don’t try to make her do things she doesn’t want, like climb trees. Okay?”

Kamui nods. “I promise. Um, so when can I go back to Shirasagi?”

“Seven years you’ll be here. You’ll be 10 in a few days, so we won’t see you again until you’re 17. I know that may seem like a long time from now, but it’ll pass by before you know it. Don’t worry though; Yuugiri will take care of you. You like her, don’t you?”

“Yeah, she’s nice. And she cooks good food and makes me warm clothes. But I’m still gonna miss you, Mama.”

She turns around to give Mikoto a tight embrace, pressing her cheek to her stomach. Mikoto strokes her hair, her free arm around her precious daughter. “I know, my sweet. I’ll miss you too.”

Around noon they head over to the Nohrian mansion on the other side of the island. Only one caravan is taken as the majority of their resources were left in the care of the housekeeping. Kamui bounces in her seat once the mansion’s gates come into view, and Ryoma gazes up at the tall building with awe.

Nohrian caravans are situated just beyond the front steps, though two of them take their leave as the Hoshidan one enters. Arete is waiting for them outside with Azura to her right, and another older girl to her left. She has thick and wavy lavender locks up to her shoulders. Mikoto supposes that has to be Camilla.

Kamui is the first out of the carriage. Once Yuugiri opens the door, she sprints away giggling. Arete smiles and braces herself for the impact of Kamui crashing into her for a hug. “Hello again, Princess Kamui.”

“Hi Lady Arete! I’m glad I get to stay in your house. I liked it when I was here last time, and the food.”

“Well you’ll eat spledidly every day for the years to come. We were about to have lunch in the dining room. Would you like some?”

“Yes!”

Ryoma keeps to Mikoto’s side, his hand fidgeting on the hilt of his sword. When they reach Arete, he bows politely. “Good day, your majesty. I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Crown Prince Ryoma of Hoshido.”

“Of course I remember you. Your father is very proud of his first son; talked a lot about you when I visited for the wedding. Here to escort your step-mother and step-sister?”

“Yeah—I mean, yes. I’m 15 now, so I’m old enough to start protecting people. Kamui especially.”

“That’s good to hear. You sound like you’ll become a fine young man in a good couple of years.” Arete places a delicate hand on Azura’s back. “This is my daughter, Azura. Second princess of Nohr. Say hello, dear.”

“H-Hi,” she says meekly. Her golden eyes focus their attention to the floor, and she tugs on the long sleeves of her dress.

“And this is my step-daughter,” Arete places her other hand on the girl’s shoulder, “Camilla. First princess of Nohr. She’s around your age.”

Camilla smiles at Ryoma, sweeping her bangs off to the side. “It’s nice to meet you, Prince Ryoma. And I’ll be 13 this year, a teenager finally.” She holds out her hand, and Ryoma stares at it in confusion. Then he utters a small, “O-Oh, yeah,” and gently takes her hand to kiss it. “That’s what Nohrians do, right?”

Giggling, Camilla nods. “Yes. You’re learning, crown prince.”

He takes his hand away and stands by Mikoto’s side again, wiping his palms on his pants. Camilla seems to ignore the pleasantries exchanged on the front steps, instead focusing her attention on Ryoma. Her lips gradually grow into a smile, and she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. He glances at her once and then turns away when he catches her gazing at him with her large wine-colored eyes. Ryoma clears his throat and asks Arete, “So where’s Prince Xander?”

“Any special reason why you’re asking?”

“Last time I saw him, he kept trying to avoid a duel, and said next time we’ll have one. Is he here? Because I’m ready to fight him.”

“No. Xander is off on a mission for King Garon. Like you, he’ll be 15 come October, and so my husband thinks it’s time he starts putting all that training to good use. But he’s about a day away from what I know. I told him to make a short detour to the Sagesse mansion when he’s done.”

Ryoma pokes Mikoto’s arm with his finger. “Mother, can we stay a few days? I need to fight him.”

She chuckles and pats his shoulder. “We can’t stay. Tomorrow we’re leaving first thing in the morning. You know our tight schedule.”

“But then it’ll be forever until I see him again!” He crosses his arms and gives a small pout. “How do I know what I need to work on if I can’t practice with my rival?”

“Why are you so intent on dueling Prince Xander?”

“He’ll be the Nohrian king someday, and this land only has two royal families. There’s no other eventual-king I can fight.”

“You can visit Windmire for his birthday,” suggests Camilla. Her hands are clasped behind her back as she rocks back and forth on her heels. She tilts her head slightly, a sweet smile on her lips. “Or mine. It’s in November. Don’t you think it’d be nice to see the stars at night? They sparkle like jewels all across Nohr in the summer and autumn—it’s really pretty. I’d like it if you can visit one day. I know the perfect spot to gaze up at them too.”

“Uh, m-maybe, sure,” he says dismissively. “Lady Arete,” he’s quick to change the subject, but Camilla continues to smile even after being awkwardly brushed off, “can I take Kamui to her new room? I want to help her unpack. And stuff.”

“Of course.” She smirks, and then turns to Camilla. “Why don’t you take them upstairs? Give the prince and princess a little tour.”

The girl claps her hands together, bouncing once on her toes. “Okay, Mother.” Extending a hand to Kamui, she says, “Let’s go see where you’ll be staying now. The bed is soft and the blankets are warm. I picked some flowers for you and put them in a pretty vase, so I hope you like them.”

Kamui takes her hand with a grin. “I like flowers! I plan to draw them all when I’m here.”

“We have a lot of colorful ones, so you’re sure to get nice pictures. We’ll start with a tour first and then go to your new room. You too, Prince Ryoma; join us!”

He groans at the back of his throat, but grudgingly follows the girls into the mansion. Arete shakes her head at their retreating forms. “I think Camilla is quite fond of your boy already.”

“She and every other noble girl in Hoshido. I don’t think Ryoma enjoyed his 15th birthday all that much, considering half of the time was spent getting to know potential marriage partners.”

“Ah, yes. He is at that age now to start looking, isn’t he?”

Mikoto and Arete (with Azura following beside them) help instruct housekeeping to take the belongings to Kamui’s room and that of Yuugiri’s. Her retainer is properly introduced to Gunter as well as Jakob and the Ice Tribe twins. While the girls seem to be happy to have an elder woman in the home, Jakob is his usual grumpy self, only giving a quick greeting before going back to his work.

After everyone gets settled in, they have lunch in the dining room. Camilla reserves a seat for Ryoma specifically, but he hurries to sit in between Mikoto and Kamui. The girl doesn’t pay it much mind though and instead chats up Azura who has been quiet since they arrived.

Lunch goes smoothly, especially when dessert is brought out. Ryoma isn’t one for sweets, but the moment he lays eyes on the chocolate pastries, he fills up his small plate with one of each. “It sucks that we don’t have chocolate in Hoshido,” he mumbles in-between bites. “The desserts we have with fruit and stuff are good, but not like this.”

“There’s a confectionary shop down the street,” Camilla says. “They sell delicious chocolate in really nice boxes. Special orders are in tin ones painted with colorful floral patterns or other shapes.”

“Oh. Uh… y-yeah? Do they really sell good ones?”

“Yup. I can take you there after we’re done.”

“M-Maybe later, like tomorrow morning.”

Even chocolate isn’t enough to tempt him to socialize with another noble girl. The Hoshidan aristocrats better have a reservoir of patience. Mikoto is sure Ryoma will drag out his grace period of staying single for as long as he can. He’s a smart boy, so no doubt he’ll find further excuses after he’s 20 as to why he still hasn’t chosen anybody.

Kamui and Azura are sent away after lunch to get to know each other. Camilla goes with them but Ryoma can’t be bothered to do the same. Instead he excuses himself out to the garden to practice his form, and Arete tells him to be careful not to slice any of the trees or flowers.

“Jakob and the girls can’t always be playing with our daughters,” she says later as they lounge in the common room. “They’ll be focused on developing their skills in housekeeping, in addition to combat to prepare themselves as future retainers. Or at least Jakob and Felicia will. Flora is to remain a maid so somebody can upkeep Azura’s living space while the other two accompany her to wherever.”

“Don’t they get breaks?”

“Yes, but only for an hour or so. Because of this, I’ve delegated with a noble family to have their son come and visit once or twice a year. His name is Silas, and he’s Kamui’s age. Nice boy. Comes from a good home and an only child, so his parents were more than happy to oblige.”

“Arete, are you sure about this? How do we know he won’t bully Kamui?”

“Because Gunter will keep me updated on his behavior. His family is one of the few I can genuinely trust. They own a lot of land and have a history of knighthood. The boy himself wants to join the army when he’s of age—the royal guard, actually, so he won’t be around to visit after he turns 14. He’ll be in extensive training; only has four years to prepare since the military begins enlisting people at 18. His chances will be higher if he’s already experienced.”

“Well, I guess that doesn’t sound too bad then.”

Her sister holds her hand in her own. “Mikoto, your daughter—my niece—will be welcome here. She won’t be ostracized like she was in Hoshido. I promise you.”

Azura will keep Arete’s pendant, is what she’s later told. It’s for emergencies in case Kamui loses control of her dragon form and the stone isn’t anywhere nearby. Azura has memorized the entire song now and knows of the physical pain that comes with it. She’s also trained in using spears and lances should other problems arise. Not as trained as a seasoned soldier, but enough to get by, at least. Or as skilled as an 11-year-old can possibly get with a weapon.

“My girl is ready to begin the journey of her fate.” Arete stares into the tea cup, watching the reflection ripple as she drops one sugar cube into it. “I’ve also left her a letter telling her the truth about you and Kamui, that you’re actually our blood family. I told her not to open it until she’s 15, or until… I’m no longer here.”

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

The woman is silent for a few minutes. Her hands slowly curl around the cup, tapping once on its porcelain surface with her index finger. “In my research of the Dragon Veins, I discovered that Iago had gone with Katerina on a few of her trips. In her journal, she recorded not only her findings but also gave an account of her experiences on these excursions. She never mentions him with anything nice to say, and more than once spoke of her distrust in him. Iago was the last person to see her alive too, though I found this out from the man himself.”

She goes on to explain that in the last few entries, Katerina had written about the fellow acting strangely. He had never taken interest in Dragon Veins until the last month of her life. Garon had suggested she allow Iago to accompany her for protection and advisement. But the man is a coward by default and hides behind tricks and lackeys. He always has at least a few soldiers with him for safety.

“But this last trip,” Arete ends, “he didn’t take anyone. I only found this out because I asked Garon about it. And yet Iago returned with a few more soldiers than Katerina had originally hired. He passed it off as them being rookies and wanting to enlist—finding him en route was just coincidence. But I don’t buy it for one second. When they were trained by the lieutenants, they weren’t as inexperienced as they claimed to have been.”

“You think he murdered Katerina?”

“At this point, I’m almost certain he did. Garon is a wise man, but Iago has a silver tongue and is a master at kissing rears. Katerina never trusted him, and neither do I. He was also involved in the Mistress Massacre; Violetta would’ve never known about the new concubines had Iago not ‘casually’ let it slip. He is a harbinger of chaos, and I don’t know when I’ll be his next target. Maybe I already am.”

Mikoto shakes her head, setting the tea cup back on its saucer. “No, you can’t think like that. You need to _live_ , Arete. We both do.”

“I’m not saying it _is_ going to happen indefinitely, but I still need to prepare for the worst-case scenario; things don’t always go as we plan. A fortified enchantment coats this mansion, and that of Hoshido’s. Malicious intent will be immediately rejected back outside the barrier. The girls will be safe, so long as they stay in either residence for most of the seven years.”

“That’s not good enough.”

“It’ll have to be.”

“You can’t go, not like this,” Mikoto replies quietly. “I just found you, only to have you taken away from me again? For good?”

“I’m sorry.” Arete pats her knee, frowning. “I don’t want to leave you either, Mikoto. But this is the reality of our situation. I don’t like it any more than you do.” She gives a weak smile, and says, “Regardless of what’s to come, know that I’ll always love you, my precious little sister.”

“I’ll always love you too, Arete. Please,” she grips the woman’s hand in both of hers, squeezing tightly, “should anything happen, think of me. I don’t want your final thoughts to be of something horrible. Promise me?”

Her sister places a comforting hand over her own, grip just as firm. “Promise.”

Even if Arete is ready to die at any given moment, that doesn’t mean Azura is ready to lose her mother. Who will watch over her then? Will she be safe when she returns to Krakenburg? Or will Iago make her his next target? Both her niece and Kamui need to remain alive so they can defeat Anankos. Without either of them, the plan to slay him will wither and die. Even if the ambassador project is successful, Kamui will then be in danger if Iago is truly a murderer.

But very few options are left on the table. As much as it will hurt, if she or Arete need to perish to ensure their daughters live and thrive, then that’s the risk they have no choice but to take.

These thoughts remain with Mikoto all throughout the next morning and as she says her tearful farewells to Kamui. She doesn’t turn away from the port where her daughter, niece, and sister are waving good bye. Ryoma asks her what’s wrong when the vessel begins to move, but she doesn’t respond.

Arete smiles even as the sea forces greater distance between them. Mikoto needs to be brave and rational for her—she knows that. But she’s also tired of mourning people she loves. Too many have died already at the hands of the wicked. Many more might also suffer the same end.

Who in their right mind would blame someone for grieving about that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well we've reached chapter 30. That means we're getting closer to the end of part 1. :(
> 
> I haven't even started on part 2, so I really should get on with it. Lol
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	31. XXXI

His mother told him to visit once his mission was done.

“It’d mean a lot to Azura,” she had said. “Seeing a familiar face might make her more comfortable with this new arrangement.” And so Xander does indeed take the detour to Notre Sagesse once he’s accomplished his assignment. Eliminating a bandit hideout wasn’t easy, but at least now he knows all that time training night and day served a meaningful purpose.

Notre Sagesse is nothing to brag about, although they have a fantastic academic reputation. Not as grand as the personal tutors in the castle, but good enough for other non-royal nobles. It also hosts the Sevenfold Sanctuary, the greatest test of strength in all the land. Should one accomplish the grueling tasks given by the Rainbow Sage, he will bless them with great power. To go in means to understand you might not ever come back out.

Many have taken on the trials within, but only his father and King Sumeragi have survived thus far. A knight also managed to pass it, but nobody knows of his name to this day. Xander plans to be the fourth champion of the trials, and he _will_ succeed. Someday.

He hasn’t been to the Nohrian mansion on the island in quite a while. Mother had said she would already be gone once he arrived, but she’ll be sure to tell Father he’d be resting there for a day or so.

Azura is the first person he expects to see once his presence is announced, but instead it’s Kamui, the second princess of Hoshido. She’s in a Nohrian dress lined with white lace at the collar, though she isn’t wearing any shoes; only stockings.

“You’re Xander!” she exclaims with a grin. “Do you remember me?”

“I do,” he replies. “It’s nice to see you again, princess.”

“Call me Kamui; it’s okay. You’re my friend now, so you don’t need to call me a princess all the time.” She giggles and wraps him in a hug. He awkwardly pats her back until she leans away from him. “You smell like dirt, blood, and ash. Did something bad happen?”

 _She can smell all that on me? I had bathed before coming here. How in…_ “Um, yes. But it’s over now, so nobody needs to worry anymore. Some awful men were hurting a village, like stealing their things or killing people, so I went to go and defeat them. They won’t be hurting anyone anymore.”

“Oh, that’s good! You’re like a hero, huh? That defeats all the bad guys?”

He smiles and says, “I guess so.”

From the staircase, Azura climbs down slowly, her hair flowing behind her. He had once mentioned she ought to tie it up because it reaches the middle of her back now, but she prefers to leave it loose. She isn’t wearing shoes either, and he has to wonder if Kamui influenced her.

“Hi, Big Brother,” she greets in that soft voice of hers. “How was your trip?”

“Good. I’m a little tired, but at least I’m still in one piece.”

“We’re going to have dinner in an hour. And Gunter has your room ready if you want to go up there. You can rest before we eat.”

“Good idea.”

He doesn’t want to spend too long at the mansion, but he knows the men under his care would like to rest as well. Protocol enforces them to set up camp within the estate, but not actually enter the residence. Had it been winter, Xander would’ve broken the rules a little and at least give them the first floor to sleep in. But his father dislikes it when his rules are broken, and he doesn’t plan on angering the man when he’s already done a good job of completing his assignment.

Dinner, as it turns out, is special tonight. Extra platters of appetizers and bigger portions of broths, meats, and cooked vegetables are laid out on the long table. “It’s in celebration of Kamui’s 10th birthday,” the woman named Yuugiri says. She’s one of Queen Mikoto’s retainers who was hired to protect Kamui throughout the duration of the ambassador program.

“Oh, I didn’t—sorry. I would’ve brought a present had I known.”

“She’s easily pleased, don’t worry. Lady Kamui doesn’t have many friends back home, or in general. Your presence is enough of a gift for her.”

Yuugiri speaks flawless Midway, though she later surprises him with a brief conversation in Nohrian. When he asks her how she’s so fluent, she replies, “Well you see, your highness, I used to be from a noble family. Most aristocrats in my homeland don’t bother trying to learn Nohrian or any of its dialects, but my household enforced we understand the major languages so we can better negotiate.”

“What do you mean by ‘used’ to be from a noble family?”

The woman smiles sadly. “I was meant to marry into another elite house when I was younger. When I told my parents I wanted to join the Hoshidan military instead… well, you can imagine how they took it. I was trained in everything I needed to be a good Hoshidan wife, but in the end the spear called to me. I joined the military behind their backs and even managed to enlist in the royal guard. When my parents found out, they gave me one more chance to return home. I declined, and so they disowned me.”

“Gods, I’m so sorry, Miss Yuugiri. Your parents should’ve been proud to have somebody so accomplished as their daughter.”

She chuckles, and nods her head. “Thank you for your kind words, Prince Xander. But I’ve been fine all these years. I don’t regret joining. The late Queen Ikona treated me well as a retainer, and Lady Mikoto follows in her kindness. That’s why I’m here to protect Princess Kamui. My loyalty is to my liege and the crown, not to my family.”

Yuugiri leans back in her seat and closes her eyes, head tilted upward. “Besides, I enjoy combat. The thrill of death at every corner, soaring through the skies on my Kinshi bird, in the rain and snow—there’s nothing else like it. Seeing the blood from my enemies spill onto the ground as they beg for mercy, only to have disappointment and fear crush them when I deliver the finishing blow,” she grins and gives a laugh, “it’s quite something to experience.”

Clearly, she has no fear of her own. Xander lets the topic wane into something else as he doesn’t want to know about the gory details of her experiences. Had she been Nohrian, no doubt the military would’ve loved her. He can’t say he feels the same way she does; killing isn’t to be taken lightly and nobody should get a thrill out of it.

For every life he’s had to take since his childhood, another soul haunts his memories. He’d rather keep that number as low as possible if he values his sleep, and his sanity.

He doesn’t see much of Kamui for the rest of the evening. Gunter tells him she’s exhausted from the excitable day. “Aside from lessons, she played outside from noon until supper. Sat with Lady Azura in the garden to make some little trinket or other. I’ve been told it’s not often she celebrates her birthday.”

It compels him further to buy a gift in the marketplace before he leaves. And so, the next morning he wakes bright and early to browse the shops. But he has no idea what a little girl like her would want. Camilla adores clothes and flowers, Azura prefers accessories, and Elise is too young to want anything else aside from dolls.

Kamui may consider him a friend, but Xander doesn’t really know her as a person.

With no clue as to what she might like, he supposes some treats from a bakery or confectionary shop will do. Yuugiri did say Kamui loves to eat everything and anything.

The shop owner is surprised to see him there and she scrambles around the counter to provide him with the most attentive customer service. Delicious scents of chocolate and fruit fill the air from the kitchen out back. Several shelves hold jars of different candies and fudges, and the one behind the counter has the available gift box options.

All are made of tin, but they have different designs on them and come in three sizes: small, medium, and large. He chooses one of the large ones that’s painted with ocean waves, bubbles, and coral. The pigments are of high quality as only the financially stable cities and towns can afford to use paint made out of gold and crushed gemstones. It makes the box sparkle like a fish’s scales. Kamui is sure to love it.

“Excellent choice, your highness!” The woman lines the interior with a lace sheet. “And what sort of candy would you like?”

“It’s actually a gift for a family friend. She likes anything, as far as I know. But I want the most popular of your treats, if that’s doable.”

“Of course! Anything for you, milord.”

Xander had always liked wandering into shops and other establishments when he was younger. His mother Katerina said it was a good idea to get to know his people on a personal level so he could better understand how to help them when he has the authority. She used to do it a lot, but in disguise. Garon never approved (fearing for her safety), but Xander has to admit it was one of the things he admired most about her. While he himself doesn’t have on a disguise now, it still wouldn’t be a waste to socialize with the working class.

The shop woman, Candelaria (of course that would be her name), explains the ingredients and how they’re made. She feels grateful to have her shop in Notre Sagesse as she can sell both Nohrian and Hoshidan treats to customers. They’re all well-crafted, from the fudge and molasses to the sugar-coated nuts and everything else in between. He buys one of each flavor until the tin box is filled to the edge. In total, 24 candies manage to fit. Candelaria ties it up with a lace ribbon and places it gently on the counter.

“Hope I didn’t bore you, Prince Xander,” she apologizes. “I just get too excited talking about how we make them. Most of my customers just want to eat them and leave.”

“It’s alright. I sincerely enjoyed learning about your trade.” He sets a handful of gold coins onto the counter, and her eyes go wide. “I’d like another one for my sister. She’s not much of a sweets person, but a small box should be fine. Actually, make that four small boxes.”

“E-Even so, this is still a lot more than what they’d cost in total!”

“Keep it. It’ll help this establishment to stay open. I’d hate to see you go out of business.”

“Th-Thank you, sir!” Her grin stretches across her face so much that he wonders if her cheeks hurt. She quickly takes the gold and stores it in the lock box before preparing another four small boxes of candy. She hums a tune under her breath and it’s Xander’s turn to smile this time.

When he gets back to the mansion, Kamui and Azura are already up eating breakfast. He joins them at the head of the table where he’s promptly served a helping of eggs and potato hash with a slice of ham and honey.

“Hi Xander!” exclaims Kamui. “Hey, after my lessons, do you wanna come play with me in the garden? I wanna show you something.”

“Is it a game?”

“You need to come and see later! I’m not gonna tell you the surprise,” she giggles.

“Good morning, Big Brother,” Azura then greets. One of the long locks of her hair lays between her eyes. “Did you go out and train?”

“No, I went to go run some errands. I’ve decided to stay another day, but tomorrow I’ll be leaving before the sun is even out.”

“Oh, okay.” She pushes around the potatoes with her fork. “Thank you for visiting. Can you tell Mother I said hello, and that I miss her?”

“I will.”

She turns her attention back to the plate. It was always hard for her to develop any sort of bond with children back in Krakenburg. His late half-siblings ignored her or tried to kill her, and any visiting noble children would bully her. Even after the massacre, Azura continues to be nothing more than a wandering ghost in the corridors. Xander and Camilla do their best to include her in things like dinner and outings, but even if she does go, she’s quiet and only speaks if spoken to.

Hopefully Kamui’s more energetic personality will ease her into talking more.

Xander leaves them alone after breakfast to report back to his men. They’re to depart before sunrise, and so he has one of his soldiers go reserve a ship at the port. Another three are to take inventory on what they’ll need for the return trip home and then go buy the supplies. When they’re done with their tasks, they’re allowed leisure time for the rest of the day.

He doesn’t want to overwork them like his father does. While not everyone in the army respects Xander as a warrior, the selective few that acknowledge his skill he likes to enlist for any mission he takes. If they perform well, their salary is increased slightly. Or he gives them more leisure time if the job was successful. He doesn’t want his fellow soldiers to entirely fear him when he’s older.

Fear is not the same as respect, and you get more with sugar than you do with vinegar.

The rest of the morning is spent logging his excursion in a journal and writing up the expenses of the trip. When afternoon comes, he goes down to the garden like he had promised Kamui. But first he makes a quick stop in the housekeeping’s common room where he finds Jakob, Felicia, and Flora resting on the couch. He hands all three of them one of the small candy boxes.

“Ooh my gosh!” Felicia springs up from her seat, staring at the box with wide eyes. “Milord you didn’t have to! I love candy!” She holds it out in front of her and nearly drops it, but manages to swipe it mid-air back into her arms.

“She’s right,” Flora says. “We’re just servants. You didn’t have to give us anything.” Though she says that, the girl is already tugging the lace ribbon undone.

Jakob only stares at his as if it’s some odd creature. “Do I have to eat these?”

“No. You can give them to the girls if you’re not interested. But I didn’t want you to feel left out. I appreciate all three of you working hard to make life for Azura more comfortable and for being her friends.”

He grunts, but doesn’t offer a rude remark. Xander thinks he hears the younger boy utter a small ‘thank you’, but he’d rather take the imaginary gratitude than ruin Jakob’s progress at being politer.

When he gets to the garden, Azura and Kamui are sitting on a blanket in the middle of the grass. Around them are small picked flowers and some thread. They’re weaving them into a circular shape, almost like a tiara.

Kamui waves at him when he gets closer. “Come sit down! We have enough flowers!”

“And what is it that you girls are doing here?” he asks with a smile. Xander takes a seat next to his step-sister and across from Kamui. Their fingers are tinged green and look sticky.

“Making flower crowns! Here, you need to try it!” She drops a fistful of flowers onto his lap and hands him some white thread. “This is to help keep them in shape. And we have needles too if you need to make knots and stuff.”

Azura gives him a quick smile before going back to her work. He watches them craft for a few minutes. Sometimes the stems are long enough to tie together, but other times they require the thread and needles to keep them in place. Azura’s has baby’s breath and bluebells with yellow dandelions. Kamui is working on one with pink orchids and orange daisies.

“Earlier I went to the confectionary shop,” he sets the small tin box next to Azura, “and got you this. I won’t get to visit a lot in the seven years. This won’t make up for it but…”

“It’s candy,” she whispers, peeking into the box. “Thank you.”

“You’re so lucky, Azura! You have a nice big brother.” Kamui pouts, looking sad. “Can you let me smell them before you eat them, please?”

“I didn’t forget about you, of course.” Xander takes the other box from the bag and sets it in front of Kamui. She gasps loudly, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “It’s a late present. Happy Birthday, Princess Kamui.”

She laughs and pulls at the ribbon, licking her lips once she sees all the different flavors lined up. “They smell so good! You’re gonna have some, right Xander? There’s enough to share.”

“You can do whatever you like with them.”

“Then you get some too. Oh, I should give Jakob and Felicia and Flora some.”

“Don’t worry; I gave them their own little candy boxes, so these are all yours.”

Kamui giggles and plops one of the fudges in her mouth. “Thwank woo,” she says as she chews.

He eats whatever candy she gives him and then begins constructing his own flower crown. Unlike the girls, he doesn’t have as much to work with. Only white and purple orchids. Some of the flowers fall off the stem, and so he’s left with a lot of green on his instead of the vibrant blooms.

“My hands might be too big,” he mumbles.

“Oh, no Xander.” Azura picks up the fallen flowers. “You’re just going too fast and being rough. Flowers are delicate and you need to go slow.”

“You can do it, Xander!” Kamui cheers.

Even so, Azura has to help him improvise with every new petal or bloom that falls off. She demonstrates how to fortify the sewing pattern so the flowers remain intact yet stay on the stems. The end result is lopsided with too many petals missing.

“It’s okay; this was your first time making one.” Azura stacks the fallen petals into a pile. “But you’ll get better if you practice more.”

“Yours is much nicer,” he laments. “It suits you too, Azura.”

“Thank you, Brother.”

“It’s unique!” Kamui grabs his crown and places it on his head, smiling. “Just like you! My mama says it’s a good thing to be unique—which is what she says I am. So don’t worry, okay?”

She smiles brightly at him with so much childish joy and innocence, he can’t think of anything to say but a small, “Thank you, little princess.” His fingers gently skirt over the flowers on his head. It’s somewhat wet from handling them so much, but at least they smell nice.

Yuugiri had told him that due to her appearance, Kamui was often bullied by other children in Hoshido to the point where she began hating herself. And he can’t imagine why anyone with a soul would ever want to make her feel that way.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


In her research of the Dragon Veins, Arete has discovered the poisoning of the land is indeed coming from Valla. She still isn’t sure why or how, but she does know Anankos is behind it. None of the veins in her home country have been run dry. Rather, brand new veins are being infected with some malevolent aura that is surging westward, away from the country. Veins that couldn’t have been there for more than two decades.

All Dragon Veins are marked on her world maps; they were the first geographical elements she committed to memory when she took the Vallite throne. So it was odd to feel primordial energy pulsating in places where they weren’t supposed to be.

One of her experiments was to summon dragonstone from these new reservoirs. Regardless of size, they ended up emitting an ominous purple glow. Some even had blackened cores. Samples of dragonstone from the primordial veins, however, proved to be in their normal iridescent blue sheen. Only these new, narrower veins grew the infected ones.

Which means Anankos put them there himself, somehow. He’s been plotting something nefarious for a long time. Maybe it started when the madness overcame him. But why Nohr, of all places? The only conclusion she could deem rational was that another massive misfortune wouldn’t be far from the norm.

Nohr always has harsh winters in most places, so the price of food rises during the season. On top of a plague that had wiped out a third of their population some 50 years ago, a creeping famine wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for the apparently ‘cursed’ nation. Some may think it’s punishment from not praying enough to the gods, whether at their temples or in their own homes. Others might blame it on poor management of landowners. Naturalists might blame some invasive insect species.

There would be enough assumptions and hypothesizes that nobody would suspect the remaining god on this accursed earth is actually trying to wipe out all of humanity for his own deranged reasons.

Since coming to her own theory—which is undoubtedly the closest to the truth—Arete has been enchanting some other stone samples from Valla in private. There’s a high chance Anankos will try to possess the living. If he can command the dead, who’s to say he wouldn’t try to whisper in a live man’s ear with lies about a grand fortune they’ll never have?

Corpses can only last so long before they fall apart and become useless. Eventually Anankos will need fresh and willing vessels to carry out his plans.

In precaution for this tragic possibility, Arete works tirelessly on the Vallazinite stone she brings back with her from the carefully scheduled visits through the lakes. It’s the same stone her ancestors used to create the Hoshidan throne that still rests in Shirasagi Castle today. A gift as an offering of eternal peace between the two nations. The stone is naturally enchanted to reveal the truths about someone. In Vallite culture, it’s how the next ruling king or queen from the royal line is determined worthy to take the throne. A malicious and corrupted sovereign will only bring the kingdom ruin.

She had taken a small chunk of this stone from one of her latest travels to Valla. In her personal study, she has a private locked room where she works on spells and other magical practices that Iago cannot access. He’s always sniffing around for anything he can use to snitch on her. The man doesn’t seem to like anyone aside from Garon. Even then, she can’t be sure Iago won’t eventually stab his own king in the back at some point.

Currently, she’s trying to shape her stone into an orb. It’s more of a crystal, really, with how translucent it is. While not as powerful as a throne, at least she’ll be able to carry this around. Because of its size, however, it needs a spell to go along with it to fortify the magic.

A knock on the door has her scrambling to hide her work under papers and cloths. “What is it?”

“Milady, it’s time for dinner,” a maid says from the other side.

“Oh, yes, I’ll be right out.”

“Would you like to eat in the dining room or in your study?”

“The dining room is fine.” Arete opens the door and then quickly locks it behind her. “I’d like to eat with the children.” Even if the maid wanted to get in, the door has a blood spell on it. Only someone related to Arete can have access to it. (She’s deadly serious about trying to protect all her findings from Iago or other prying eyes.) The lock and key is only for appearances.

With Garon off to—once again—make negotiations with the Ice Tribe, Arete is left to manage the kingdom and the castle in his absence. His trips aren’t an issue, as Iago usually goes with him. At least she gets a reprieve from that oily waste of space.

In the dining room, she’s surprised to see Xander there chatting up Camilla, Leo, and little Elise. His return trip was calculated to take another day, but she can’t say she isn’t happy to see him.

“It’s wonderful to have you back home, Xander,” she greets as she takes her seat at the dining room table. “Did everything go okay?”

“Thank you, Mother.” He offers a small smile. “And it was fine. I stopped by the Sagesse mansion like you asked. Azura seems a little lonely, but I think she’ll grow close to Princess Kamui eventually.”

“Yes, that’s the hope. I’m positive they’ll become great friends in the near future. Has the bandit problem been dealt with?”

Xander nods. “They refused to back down, so we had to fight them with everything we had. Many of them died, but we managed to imprison their leader and some of his admins, at the very least. I was going to report to Father in the throne room, but the guards there didn’t let me in.”

The servants bring in the platters of food and Elise squeals in excitement. Camilla attaches a bib to her collar so as not to get her nice dress full of sauces and other possible spills. Leo eyes the cooked tomatoes on pork with a hungry stare.

“Ah, yes. Garon wanted another chandelier, so the room is closed until they’re done installing it. You wouldn’t have found him there anyway. He’s out trying to negotiate with the Ice Tribe again, though I have a feeling it won’t end like he hopes. Chief Kilma has one of the last fertile claims of land—a large chunk of it, and I doubt he wants to give it to any outsider, be they royalty or aristocracy.”

“But we need that land…,” Xander laments. “We need to prepare before winter comes.”

“I know, my son.”

“Have you figured out what’s wrong with the Dragon Veins?” Camilla asks.

“They’re definitely infected with some malevolent energy, but I don’t know why or where it’s coming from. My journey to uncover the truth is still going to take some time. I’m working as fast as I can though.”

“Maybe I can help,” Leo mumbles. “When I’m older, I mean. Brynhildr finally opened up all the way for me, so I can read everything else now.”

“Leo, that’s fantastic!”

Since Katerina’s passing, nobody has touched her divine tome. Arete tried it after her first year being queen, but it didn’t respond. Unlike other tomes, it won’t open despite having no lock or clasp. Only someone of royal blood who is worthy of its power can access it.

That person is Leo.

One day he had gotten lost in the castle and ended up in the treasury from a secret passage he didn’t even know about. (It has since been sealed tight.) There he saw Brynhildr nestled in a glass case with a golden frame. Such a lover of books he is that he plucked it from where it rested and opened the tome’s cover with ease. Only the first chapter of spells allowed itself to be read, however. When Garon had found him with it later in his room that day, the king couldn’t have been any prouder regardless. (The only downside of this was a blow to Xander’s self-esteem; he has yet to be worthy of Siegfried.)

Is Arete somewhat disappointed that she, an experienced adult mage, could not open the tome, but a tiny boy of 9, can? Yes. Is she any less excited for him? Not in the least.

Should Leo master using Brynhildr, he can help restore some of Nohr’s land. He’s got such a sharp mind that he’s sure to uncover secrets Katerina might’ve missed.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, staring down at his plate. Unlike Camilla, he’s still not very talkative to anyone even without Elenora breathing down his neck to stuff his mind with as much knowledge as he can.

They speak of other things over the course of dinner, such as their etiquette lessons and anything interesting that happened during their leisure time. Xander briefly mentions his father’s suggestion to start looking for retainers, but he has no idea where to even begin.

“I’ll ask the generals to give me their reports on the best soldiers under their instruction,” Arete offers. “Your father also mentioned to me that after your 15th birthday, you’re going to begin looking for an eligible future wife, yes? The etiquette lessons and ballroom classes will come in handy, I can assure you.”

Xander makes a soft grunt and slouches over his plate. “I don’t want to, but Father is already talking about heirs….”

“I can help,” Camilla says, daintily slipping a piece of steak into her mouth with a fork. “I know a lot of the noble girls.”

He doesn’t say anything in reply, merely finishes his plate before excusing himself for a bath. Camilla gives him a worried glance and begins to call after him, but Arete tells her to leave him be. She changes the topic to Camilla’s wyvern-riding lessons, and the girl perks up again.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


After dinner, Arete finds Xander in his room reading some book on historical war tactics. She catches him nodding off, but at the sound of the door closing, he jumps and sits upright again. “H-Hello, Mother,” he greets.

“Xander,” she sits down on the couch next to him, “are you alright? Earlier your mood took a plunge at the mention of courting noble girls.”

With a small sigh, he gently closes the book. “When I was in the Sagesse mansion, I got to talk a lot with Kamui. She mentioned Prince Ryoma being of age for courting, and said about how grumpy he is getting so many giggling girls after him. Azura also told me that Camilla was acting similar when she went with you over there and met him. I guess…,” he shrugs, “I don’t know.”

She lets silence fall between them until Xander adds, “Whenever we have banquets here, or balls and other things like that, none of the girls actually want to talk to me. Their mothers have to make them, and they always seem disinterested when I try to talk about things they might like, like flowers or horses. They usually end up walking over to another boy and spend the rest of their time trying to get to know him. And I-I know what their mothers say about me; I hear them all the time.”

Hesitantly, he explains the comments thrown his way when other noble ladies think he’s not aware of their conversations. About how gangly he is or that his hair curls in all the wrong places, his face is forgettable and his shoulders are disproportionate to his torso—just a bunch of unwarranted nonsense.

“I hear them say that all the time,” he mutters. “I know I’m still short compared to other boys my age and that I’m not muscular or anything like that. And even if they try to rationalize, ‘oh but he’ll be king one day so my daughter can be queen’, they still debate on whether or not they should instead marry their daughter to some other more attractive boy because, ‘the grandchildren would be adorable’. Some have even considered trying to marry them off to Prince Ryoma because he’s apparently good-looking, or something.”

Fiddling with his hands, he adds, “While a part of me is happy that they’re not trying to use my title as a way into royalty, another part of me feels bad that being a prince means nothing if I don’t look the part….”

“And what do you think a prince looks like?” Arete finally asks.

“Not like me. One lady even said I have a ‘commoner’ body. Another said it’s a shame I look like this because my late mother was really beautiful, and Father was very handsome when he was younger. I didn’t tell him about this though because he’ll just say to ignore it. And I’m really trying—honest. I know it’s dumb. But thinking about the courting stage,” he shakes his head, “I just don’t want to do it, Mother. I don’t. I’ve already accepted that royals marry for their kingdom—and that’s something I’m willing to do. But I… I’d rather focus on my training and my studies, going on missions and being in council meetings. Stuff where I don’t have to worry about if a girl likes me or not, which none do. Camilla tells me if I ask, but she’s never happy about it.”

“Oh, Xander.” Arete takes his hand, patting it with her other one. “My sweet boy, please don’t listen to those outright lies and slander. You’re precious just the way you are.”

“Thank you for saying that, but no. I’m not—I know so.”

“My son, not everyone grows at the same rate. You’re simply a late bloomer; you’ll get there one day.”

“I guess so.” Xander sighs and stares at his lap. “But I’ve already figured it out. A compromise with Father, I mean. He can choose whoever he wants me to marry—I don’t care. I don’t care about which family she’s from, what she looks like, or if she even likes me as a person. Whatever will help our kingdom, that’s the choice I want. Everything else doesn’t matter. I just don’t want to bother courting anybody.”

Xander gives her a glance, asking, “He should be happy with that, right? It’s rational? I’ll still get a wife, an heir or two, and the kingdom will benefit from whatever her family can offer us.”

The compromise is rational, yes. Maybe too rational. It’s too sensible to the point where she has to ask, “Xander, you know, if there’s something deeper you wish to tell me, it’s fine. I’ll understand, and I won’t tell your father. You can’t help who you like, my dear.”

His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “What? _Oh_ , you think—no, Mother. That’s not what’s going on here.” He shakes his head lightly. “Even if it was, there’s no rule against a king or prince having a male consort, if that’s how my feelings develop. Father already talked to me about that possibility, and said I still need a wife and heir, ‘for appearances’. Not everyone will accept it otherwise.”

Arete caresses his cheek with her hand, and gently guides him to look at her. “My dearest Alexander, is this what you really want? Are you absolutely certain?”

He nods. “Yes. I’m tired of overhearing conversations like that about me. I just want to be a good king and restore Nohr back to a prosperous state. That’s all I want. Everything else doesn’t matter. Even if I was promised tomorrow to a noble girl I’ve never met, that’s fine. I only want to be worthy of the crown, and worthy of the respect from my people as a ruler. I don’t want my country to suffer anymore.”

 _Katerina, if only you could see your boy now. He’ll make you proud, I just know it._ “Then don’t worry about this. Focus on your training and your studies. I’ll make it my personal goal to find a suitable wife for you. One who shares your ideals, at the very least.”

Xander smiles only slightly before giving her a hug. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Of course,” she embraces him in return, rubbing soothing circles into his back, “my son.”

The noble ladies can spout horse manure about his looks all they want. It’s not ever going to change the fact that their families will never be worthy to join the crown. Arete will make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Xander's final POV in part 1, but he'll have more in 2 & 3.
> 
> Fun note: the last scene with him and Arete was inspired by [this](http://luxememoria.tumblr.com/post/125266147379) fanart. There are people who others may claim are nothing special when they're growing in the early teens to mid-teens, so I felt like Xander might be one of them. He's unfathomably handsome as an adult in canon, so I wanted to explore how he might've felt about himself as an adolescent. (Like I was genuinely upset at how attractive he is when I first saw him. I felt like I was hallucinating. Lmao)
> 
> In the game, he mentions he used to be super shy when he was younger, so I figured this might contribute to that. One of the quickest ways to make you quieter long-term (and develop self-esteem issues) is to have people take jabs at your appearance. It really sucks. Please don't do this to teenagers 'cause it'll potentially damage their self-confidence later down the line.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	32. XXXII

For the first few months of her new home, Kamui learns about Nohrian history and culture. Like how Nohr was founded and the right way to place a fork and knife near her plate. She doesn’t understand all of it, but Gunter says she will once she’s older.

“Why am I here again?” she asks one day as she and Azura practice their caligraphy in the Nohrian alphabet.

“To become a future ambassador, milady,” Gunter replies. “Do you know what that is?” 

“Um, no not really.”

“It means you’ll be traveling to Nohr for things like negotiations between here and Hoshido. It’s a very important position your family has given you, so you must work hard at it.”

“Well… okay,” she mumbles. “If it’s for my family, then I guess it’s fine.”

Her mama had taught her to read and write in Hoshidan for a few years, so it’s a little difficult trying to switch over to Nohrian. Some days she studies that, and other times she studies Midway. It’s the ‘in-between’ language. That’s what Yuugiri told her one time when she asked. Kamui is a lot better at Midway than she is at Nohrian. Azura tells her not to worry though because she’ll get better later.

“We’re going to be here for seven years, remember?” she mentions. “That’s a lot of time to be perfect at something.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

She likes Nohrian books, though. They have a hard cover and sometimes have little jewels decorating them. Her favorite is the book about plants titled _Nohrian Flora_. On one page is a drawing of a plant, and the page next to it talks about what it’s used for. There’s an animal one too, but Gunter says she needs to finish this one first before she can move on to the next book.

Another thing she likes to learn about is what each flower means. “It’s part of your training as a lady,” Yuugiri had explained as she strolled with Kamui in the garden one day. “You need to know this for when it comes time to find suitors.”

“What’s a ‘suitor’?”

Yuugiri had smiled, and plucked a rose from the bush. “A suitor is a person who’s interested in marrying you. If they give you a red rose like this, for example, that means they’re really interested.”

Kamui titled her head to the side, frowning. “But I’m already gonna marry Ryoma so he doesn’t hate his life as king.”

“Many things can happen in between then and now, princess. You don’t know what the future holds.” Yuugiri carefully clipped off the thorns of the rose with a small blade, and then placed it behind Kamui’s ear. “For now, just focus on your studies, okay? Let’s make your mother proud. You want to surprise your family with how much you’ve grown, right?”

“Yes! I wanna show them I can be a lady too—I can be a royal.”

“I believe in you, little one.”

Since that day, Kamui has paid attention in her lessons. Everything from horseback riding to Nohrian calligraphy and table manners. That’s how it goes for the rest of the year. Winters are colder in Notre Sagesse than they are in Hoshido, but Kamui doesn’t mind too much. She learns a lot about how to prepare Nohrian tea and watches Felicia, Flora, and Jakob learn to cook in the kitchen. Felicia isn’t good. Her food always comes out black or nasty. Flora is the best, and Jakob is learning fast too.

“Can you teach me?” she asks one day as Jakob and Flora are baking a cake. They usually take turns with the mansion’s cooks. Sometimes the cooks make the desserts, and other times they make the dinner. Today is their turn to make the dessert. The batter smells good, but Flora says she can’t eat it or she’ll get sick.

“Milady you don’t need to worry about these things,” replies Jakob without looking at her. He’s really good at stirring the bowl. Since he’s gotten better at cooking, making tea, folding sheets, and overall being a better butler, he hasn’t been as grumpy. Which is good. Kamui hates it when people are angry around her, especially her friends. “You have chefs that cook for you.”

“But I still wanna learn,” she replies. Her feet swing back and forth as she sits on a stool near the table. “I read in a book that women need to learn how to cook.”

“That’s wrong,” Flora quickly says. She’s making another batter of frosting. Chocolate flavored. It smells delicious and Kamui licks her lips. “Women don’t _need_ to learn how to cook, Lady Kamui. Sometimes the men are the ones who cook. And sometimes the women are the ones who protect the house and the family. The cooking thing is more for commoners, I think.”

“Then what am _I_ supposed to learn?” Kamui sighs, slumping her shoulders. “Back in Hoshido, nobody let me use weapons. And Ryoma and the others get to learn. They’re probably learning right now! He has a katana, Hinoka has a naginata, Takumi is training with bows, and I dunno what little Sakura will use, but I’m sure she’ll have a weapon too! And then I can’t clean or cook here. Just read. A lot. And write so much that my hand hurts. I don’t feel like I’m training to do _anything_ important. And you and Jakob and Felicia work hard at being good servants _and_ you also have weapons—daggers!”

“We’re learning healing magic too,” Jakob comments. “Gunter told us a good maid or butler also knows how to heal their liege.”

“ _And_ magic now?” Kamui rests her chin on the table. “You guys are doing all this cool stuff….”

Jakob pours the cake batter into a round pan and sets it in the oven. Flora covers her finished frosting with a small cloth, just in case bugs might try to get in. “But don’t you like learning about flowers?” she asks.

“Yeah, they’re nice. But what am I gonna do with flowers? I can’t clean with them. Or cook with them.”

“Some you can.”

“Then can you teach me?”

“No, Lady Kamui.” Flora tries to get her to sit up properly by lifting her from the shoulders, “Your chin has flour on it! You’re gonna get it all over your nice clothes too,” but Kamui won’t budge. She rests her cheek against the table, and Flora clicks her tongue. “Now it’s in your hair.”

Gunter walks into the kitchen then, and when he sees Kamui, he says, “For the gods’ sakes, Lady Kamui. What are you doing in here? _Again?_ ”

“Flora and Jakob won’t teach me how to cook no matter how many times I ask….”

“That isn’t your job in this house. You’re to be an ambassador for the Hoshidan royal family, not a servant.” Gunter picks her up and sets her on the ground. He sighs. “Where are your shoes? Your stockings?”

“In my room.”

“You can’t walk around barefoot. A nail or something sharp might be on the floor and you could hurt yourself.”

“But my feet get hot, Gunter.”

He dusts off some flour from the sleeve of her dress. “I don’t see how considering it’s frigid outside. Now go up to your room and change into something nice. Yuugiri is already up there with an outfit in mind. It’s almost time for your ballroom dancing lessons.”

Kamui groans and follows Gunter out the kitchen doors. He says to Jakob, “Boy, make yourself presentable too. You’re going to be a practice partner for Lady Azura,” and then escorts Kamui to her room. Every time he catches her wandering off on her free time, he makes sure she goes back to her room so she can’t do it again for the rest of the day.

Yuugiri is waiting by the bed once they reach her room. On it is a clean dress. It’s a light purple with long sleeves and a lacey collar. In the center of the collar is a polished pearl oval. White stockings and her black shiny shoes with the little rose buckle are also there.

_Shoes. I hate shoes._

“The kitchen called to you again, did it?” Yuugiri asks her with a smile. “Lady Kamui, you don’t need to learn those things. At least not right now.”

“Can I learn them later?”

“We’ll see. For now, you have more important things to study for.” Yuugiri dismisses Gunter after thanking him, and then she says, “Let’s get you cleaned up. You’re going to have a new friend visiting.”

“A new friend? Who?”

She doesn’t give a name as she helps Kamui bathe and dress. Her hair is tied into a high bun and a pink rose clip is squished into it. For once she doesn’t mind having to put on her stockings and shoes. If it means she can make a new friend in another annoying ballroom lesson, then she can deal with it.

Kamui is taken to Azura’s room, the other girl already in a similar dress like Kamui’s, except it’s a dark blue. Her hair is in a high ponytail instead, but that lock of hair from her bangs still hangs over the bridge of her nose, like always. The pretty golden necklace with a blue gem hangs around her neck.

“Are we getting a visitor?” Kamui asks when Yuugiri leaves the room.

“Yes,” replies Azura in her soft voice. “He’s gonna stay here for a while. When I was in Castle Krakenburg, sometimes he’d visit because Mother arranged it. He’d play with me, but then he stopped coming when it got more dangerous.”

“Oh. ‘Cause the other kids kept trying to kill you?”

“…Uh-huh.”

“That sucks a lot. I’m sorry Azura. I dunno why somebody would wanna kill you. You’re really nice.”

She smiles. “It’s okay, Kamui. They’re all gone now, so I don’t have to worry about it anymore. Anyway, his name is Silas, and he’s from a noble family. He’s going to stay here for winter, and then he’ll leave. I think Jakob will like that there’s another boy in the house.”

“What about Gunter?”

“Ah, Jakob doesn’t like him, no. And he is a man, not a boy.”

“So because he’s old, Jakob hates him?”

“K-Kamui, don’t say that.”

“But it’s true! He _is_ old. That’s the reason, right?”

“No. Not really….”

Some voices come from the hallway outside, and a door opens and closes. But it isn’t until the noises stop that Yuugiri comes to get them. They’re taken to the ballroom on the first floor. It’s a really big space with polished tiles. A pretty chandelier hangs from it, and there are fancy tables and chairs along the sides. A piano is in the back against the wall.

Jakob comes in with Gunter, along with a new boy. That must be Silas. He has silver hair like Jakob, except a little darker, and it’s cut short. His bangs stick up weirdly, like if a cow had licked them. When he sees Azura, he smiles and waves. She gives a little wave back and a small hello.

“And this is Lady Kamui,” Gunter says to him, gesturing his hand to the girl, “the second princess of Hoshido. She’ll be your practice partner for the lessons.”

Kamui catches Silas staring at her ears, looking confused. She doesn’t want him to start saying things about how she’s weird because they’re not shaped like his. She really wants him to like her. Since Kaze left to do his training, and because Jakob and the girls are always busy, she doesn’t have a lot of friends.

“Hi!” she starts, holding out her hand. “I’m Kamui!”

Yuugiri clears her throat. “Oh, right.” Kamui does a curtsy with her dress. “Good day. I’m Kamui.”

“Hello, Lady Kamui.” Silas gives a quick bow. He’s still staring at her ears. “How are you doing today?”

“I’m hungry,” she replies. “But we gotta do these lessons first.”

“Dinner will be served soon,” Gunter says. “For now, let’s get on with the exercise, yes?” He holds out his hand to Yuugiri. “Miss, would you care to join me in an example?”

She chuckles as she takes his hand. “Of course, sir knight.”

Halfway through their example, the musicians come in to play their songs on the piano and other instruments. Gunter and Yuugiri are very good. They twirl on the ballroom floor and almost look like water with the way they move. They make it look so _easy._

When it’s the children’s turn, Kamui bites her lip as she tries not to step on Silas’ shoes. She does a few times, and apologizes over and over. “It’s okay,” he replies. “Just try not to do it again. It hurts.” Azura is a lot better, like she was made for dancing. Sometimes Kamui catches her dancing in her room, but it’s a dance she hasn’t seen before. Whenever she asks Azura to teach her, she stops and quickly says she can’t. “I-It’s a dance my mother made. It’s only for me.”

It seems like Kamui isn’t allowed to do a lot of things in this mansion. Will it be the same when they go to the Hoshidan villa too?

They have to stop early because Kamui keeps accidentally stepping on Silas’s shoes. His feet hurt a little, so Gunter ends the lesson and tells them to wash up for dinner.

“I’m really sorry, Silas.” Kamui walks beside him, her hands pulling at her sleeves. “I didn’t mean to step on you so much.”

“Uh, it’s okay, Lady Kamui,” he replies. “I was kinda distracted too.”

“Really? By what?”

He frowns, looks away, and then says. “N-Nothing. By nothing.”

“No now I wanna know. What distracted you?”

Silas sighs, and looks at her quickly before glancing away again. “Just uh, your ears. And your eyes are… like a snake’s. And then I noticed those four pointy teeth we all have—well yours are sharper. It was just, um, weird. And I never saw that bef—”

He thinks she’s weird already. That probably means he’ll be mean to her in some way, like all the other children in Hoshido.

“Well your hair looks like a cow licked it!” she exclaims. “And it looks _stupid!_ ”

“Huh?” Silas stares at her, finally, with wide eyes. “Why would you say that? My hair doesn’t look stupid!”

“Yes it does! And it’s always gonna look stupid! Forever!”

Kamui marches away to the dining room, and she thinks Silas might cry, but she sort of doesn’t care. He can’t be mean to her if she ignores him, right? Or if she’s mean to him first?

_Nobody can be mean to me anymore. Nobody! I won’t let them!_

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


She feels a little lonely the following days. Kamui refuses to apologize to Silas, no matter how many times Gunter or Yuugiri tell her she has to. Silas tries to apologize himself, but she just covers her ‘ugly’ ears and walks away. When they don’t have lessons, Azura plays with Silas in her free time. Sometimes out in the snow, or hide and seek in the big mansion. Kamui never joins them. And she can’t play with Jakob or the girls because they’re in their own lessons of healing magic. An experienced mage from the sanctuary comes to the house and teaches them. Somebody Gunter had hired.

Kamui also refuses to dance with Silas now during their ballroom lessons, so Jakob is her partner instead.

One night after dinner, she’s in her room practicing embroidery. It’s even harder than ballroom dancing, and she keeps pricking her finger with the needle. She’s trying to stitch a rose to send to her mama after the next letter comes, but now she thinks she might not have it ready before then.

“Ugh, not again!” Kamui sticks her finger in her mouth so it doesn’t bleed. “I hate this.”

A knock comes from the door, “You can come in!” but she regrets saying so once Silas walks in. Kamui pouts and glares at him, before going back to her embroidery. “What do you want?” she asks.

“You won’t tell me,” he starts, “so I asked Felicia why you were so angry about what I said. Can you… really turn into a dragon?”

Kamui doesn’t reply. He’ll probably call her a monster if she confirms it. Silas walks closer, hands behind his back. “So it’s true?”

“Why do you care?”

Silas stares at his shoes. “I’m really sorry, Lady Kamui. I didn’t know that you used to be bullied because of how you look, and ‘cause you’re part-dragon. I’ve never met somebody who could do that.”

“Nobody in Shirasagi Castle likes me,” she mumbles. “You reminded me of all those people when you said my face was weird.”

“I-I don’t think your face is weird!” She looks away, back to her embroidery. Silas is silent, and then places a small tin box next to her lap. The smell and the design of the box is recognizable as the one from the candy shop down the street. Like the one Xander had bought for her birthday. But the box is smaller, like Azura’s was.

“Miss Yuugiri told me you like food, sweets especially,” Silas starts. “So I went with Sir Gunter to the candy shop to get you something. Like as a sorry gift.”

“Well,” she takes the box and opens it up to six different chocolate pieces. They make her mouth water, and the smell is so _so_ good, “okay. I forgive you.”

“You… do?”

Kamui plops a chocolate in her mouth and she hums, a wide smile stretching across her cheeks. “Mm-hmm. I wuv chocwhat.”

As she eats another one, Silas says, “I think dragons are cool. Have you ever seen a wyvern?” Kamui shakes her head. “There’s two up on the cliff where the sanctuary is. It’s sorta dangerous. Did you… maybe want to go see them?”

This boy—her new friend—wants to hang out with her after all. She’s made another friend. “I’ve never seen a wyvern!” Kamui stuffs the rest of the chocolates in her mouth, and nods. “Whet’s whoa!”

“Oh, n-no I didn’t mean right now,” Silas says as Kamui grabs his hand and leads him down the hall. “We’ll get in trouble! It’s late!”

Kamui finishes chewing her chocolates before replying, “It’s okay; I know a secret passage. Gunter and Yuugiri won’t let me go out either, but sometimes I practice outside in the forest with my dragon form. It’s really relaxing and I usually do it when I’m angry. I sneak back in before they know I’m gone!”

She chuckles as she leads him to a storage closet on the first floor. There’s a wooden panel that isn’t lodged right into the wall. It’s a small space so they have to crawl through it until they reach the other end. There’s a big stone blocking it, and Kamui pushes it forward where it leads out through the hedge and out behind the mansion.

“Come on,” she whispers, placing the stone back. “Let’s go see the wyverns!”

As they walk, she asks Silas how he knows about them, and he says he always sees them flying whenever his family visits Notre Sagesse. His mother used to study wyverns when she was younger, and so she tells him all she knows about the big creatures. Last time they came, she said there were two up on the cliff, most likely parents.

“My mother said as long as you keep your distance, they won’t attack you,” Silas informs. “So we can’t get too close, okay?”

“Sure,” she says, not really listening as they climb the long trail up to the tower. She kind of wants to go in the sanctuary, but she’s been told only warriors worthy of taking on the challenge can get in. Unless you train to be a priest or priestess. But Kamui doesn’t want to be either.

They stop just below the backside of the sanctuary. A narrow trail leads down to a cliff where she can see the nest of the wyverns. Both of them are curled up next to each other, their wings tucked against their sides. The moonlight reflects off their scales and the snow around them. They almost look magical, like they’re glowing.

“Wyverns have cold blood,” Silas says as they hide behind a boulder, “so they have to huddle like that when it’s winter. And they make their nests high and directly in the sun during winter so they don’t freeze to death.”

“That’s cool.” One of the wyverns stirs, tucking its head under the neck of the other. “Do you think their scales feel cold?”

“Probably. They can’t breathe fire like the old dragons did. They only have a kinda poisonous—Lady Kamui!” he hisses. “What’re you doing?!”

She ignores him and quietly steps closer to where the wyverns are sleeping. A good thing about being part-dragon is that she can see clearly day or night when in her human form. The moonlight outlines the forms of her surroundings so she doesn’t trip or fall on anything.

_These_ dragons are cool. Their dark scales are so beautiful, and their faces are cute. The wings are folded now, but she’s sure they’re huge when they’re flying high in the sky. She doesn’t know why her dragon form looks so ugly and strange. She’d much rather look ‘normal’ like them.

Kamui reaches out to the tail that’s poking from outside the nest. The scales are rougher than hers and not as slippery. They kind of feel like leather, except with bumps. And she knows Silas said they have cold blood, but they feel warm underneath her touch.

If only she had a weapon’s teacher like Ryoma and the others do. Maybe then people wouldn’t treat her so bad if she knew how to control the beast inside her.

“Don’t touch them!” Silas whispers, trying to force her hand away. “Y-You’re— _we’re_ too close! They could wake up any moment!”

“But you said they hibernate,” counters Kamui. “They’re gonna stay asleep for a while, no matter how much we touch them.”

“No that’s not how that works!”

“Then why did you tell me about them?” Kamui crosses her arms. “If I see an animal, I don’t wanna just _look_ at it. I wanna touch it too.”

“But why? Some animals are dangerous! Like wyverns!”

“Because!” She huffs, and then frowns. “Because it’s… weird. Like, I feel a connection to them. And they don’t run away from me, no matter the animal. I can feel what they’re feeling. I can’t talk to them—not really. But I just _know._ That’s why I don’t like going hunting with Papa Sumeragi and Ryoma. Like I love eating meat and stuff but it still sucks knowing I can kinda understand how scared the animals are before they die and…,”

Silas isn’t paying attention to her. His eyes are wide and his mouth hangs open. “L-Lady Kamui…,” he says, backing away slowly, “p-please just… follow me, okay?”

“What’s wrong?”

A low rumbling has her turning around. The wyverns are awake, and both of them are staring at her with their glowing yellow eyes. The bigger one stands on its hind legs. It spreads its wings wide, and they’re at least twice the size of its body. She knows she should be scared, but right now, she can only stare in awe as the moonlight filters through the membrane of the dragon’s wings.

Then it roars, and rushes toward them.

Kamui stumbles backward and hurries after Silas as they make their way up the narrow trail again. When they get to the main road of the mountain, the wyvern is still following them in the sky, flapping its wings like a bat. Silas trips over a rock and rolls down, coughing as the dirt gets in his face. The wyvern slams its feet against the ground in front of them, blocking their only exit.

She thinks maybe they can run up the road, but the other wyvern blocks that route too. Both their wings are spread wide, and there’s no way to go but off the side of the cliff. It’s still too high of a drop to the rest of the road below, and she and Silas will get super hurt if they try to jump down. Or die.

_I’m not ready to die yet, and Silas shouldn’t either_.

Mama told her not to share with anyone about her dragon form. But if Silas is her friend—a real friend—then he’ll understand.

As the wyvern creep closer, their wings now folding like a dome over them, Kamui takes out her newly polished stone from her pouch, and closes her eyes. She can’t let Silas die here. His parents would be sad, and she can’t die either. Azura will have one less friend, she’ll never see Kaze again, she can’t marry Ryoma when she’s older, and worst of all, her mama might die of sadness.

The burning sensation sizzles all over her body, and when she next opens her eyes, she can only see blobs of color. Silas is whimpering as he stares at her, and she thinks he might be crying, but she can’t tell. The wyverns are making strange sounds, as if confused, and they stop moving. Kamui huffs and the dirt beneath her nostrils blows away.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she says in her distorted voice. “I’m sorry for waking you up. I just wanted to feel your scales. Look! Look at me! We’re all dragons, so that means we’re friends, right? You wouldn’t hurt a friend.”

The wyverns sniff at her and start to move close again. Kamui backs herself toward Silas, using her whole body as a shield in case they try to strike. Her wings still aren’t big enough for her to fly away with him. She’s tried flying before after she had first transformed in Hoshido, but it doesn’t work. She might not be able to fly until she’s an adult, and that’s too long of a time to wait.

Little yipping sounds come from the wyverns, but not the cute kind like puppies do. And while Kamui wouldn’t have been able to hear their sounds as words when a human, she can understand them now as a dragon.

‘ _You’re an intruder_ ,’ the first says. ‘ _And you may be a dragon, but you’re also a human. We saw you—could smell the human on you._ ’

‘ _You’ll tell other humans where we are_ ,’ adds the second. ‘ _Then they’ll chase us out or kill us. Steal our eggs and eat them or make new hides out of them. Like what they do to the cattle._ ’

“Babies? You have babies in that nest? I-I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

‘ _We won’t let anyone harm our young_ ,’ the first replies. ‘ _Not even a fellow dragon. Half-dragon. And we can’t trust you’ll keep your word. We’re the only wyvern on this island._ ’

‘ _Ever since the big northern mountain range closed, burying the kingdom of water, we’ve had to find a new home elsewhere._ ’

“Kingdom of water? What’s that?”

‘ _Apologies_ ,’ the second says with a growl, ignoring her question, ‘ _but you both will have to die if we want to live._ ’

They lunge at her and Silas screams. Kamui opens her mouth an expels the skinny beam of water. It makes a hole in one of the wyvern’s wings and it roars in pain as it stumbles back. The other snarls and tries to snap at her, but she swings her tail against its jaw, knocking its face sideways.

“Silas! Run!” she shouts, head-butting the wyvern until it falls onto its back.

He scrambles away from them, dodging their feet. The injured wyvern runs after him, and it’s a lot faster on two legs than Kamui would’ve thought. She shoots another beam of water and strikes its hide, but misses a direct shot. It leaves a deep bleeding gash instead and it cries out.

The second wyvern knocks her over with its wing and tries to bite at her leg, but she squirms underneath it and slashes at its belly with her claws. She gets hit with the talons from its right leg and she screams.

While the horns on her head are still like nubs, they’re sharp enough now to jab a few scratches. She thrashes about, swinging her head wildly as she dodges the wyvern’s bite. The other one is still going after Silas, and Kamui cries out for him to duck before it can grab him in its jaws. Then she falls as the second wyvern’s foot presses against her long neck and crushes her into the ground. She gasps for air and thrashes her limbs. Her spiked tail strikes against the dragon’s thigh over and over again, but it only whines a growl with every hit. The creature raises its neck and opens its mouth wide, glaring at her with its glowing yellow eyes.

It’ll probably bite her head off and she’ll die, blood everywhere. She’s scared, and she can’t protect Silas like this. They’re both going to die now. She was so sure the other dragons would accept her because she’s one of them. But maybe they’re like humans, and won’t accept her if she’s not whole.

One or the other. She can’t be both, otherwise she doesn’t belong.

But the deadly bite never comes. She hears a third flap of wings and then an arrow whirling toward her direction. It strikes the dragon in the neck. The wyvern stumbles off her as it’s pelted with more arrows. Kamui shakily sits up and hears the first wyvern roar as something metal clashes against its scales. A horse whinnies and a man screams, and then that wyvern goes silent.

She can smell blood, from both that dragon, and the one that looks like a pincushion now. Both of them aren’t moving anymore, and somebody removes a spear from its chest. It makes an ugly squelching sound as its driven into its hide again.

“Just to be sure,” and it’s Yuugiri’s voice. Kamui isn’t sure if she’s relieved or even more scared. “Looks like it’s dead for good.” The woman turns to her and stares. “So this is what your dragon form looks like.”

“Y-Yuugiri,” Kamui starts, “how did you know where I was?”

“I do patrols every night on my Kinshi bird,” she replies. “I have her fly as high as she can go and I scan the area for any suspicious camps or people. It wasn’t until I saw Gunter riding on his horse that I found out you and little Lord Silas were missing from the mansion. And we only knew the direction you might’ve been going in because Felicia mentioned something about wyverns.”

“Oh….”

“Lady Kamui,” Yuugiri helps her stand on four legs, “you are to _never_ do this again, do you understand?” She doesn’t yell, but her voice is still angry. “Your dragon form is supposed to be kept a secret from outsiders. What if some felon saw you and tried to hurt you? So many things could’ve gone wrong, like being killed or eaten by the wyverns.”

“I-I’m sorry. I’ve just never seen them before and I really wanted to touch them. Maybe talk to them.”

“Talk to them?”

Hooves pound in the dirt from behind them and she can smell the familiar scents of Gunter and Silas. The boy is sniffling and gives little sobs. Gunter stops his horse and its nostrils huff out air. He has his big heavy axe with him. “What in the gods’ name is _that_ , Miss Yuugiri? And where is Lady Kamui?”

“She’s right here.” Yuugiri pets her smooth head, and Gunter makes a choked sound. “You are to never speak of this, Sir Gunter. _To anyone._ It’s imperative we keep her dragon form a secret.”

He’s quiet for a minute, and then gives a hum. “The treatment she received in Hoshido makes a lot more sense now that I’m seeing her like this for the first time. Doesn’t make it right, but I finally understand why she was ostracized so terribly.”

“Lord Silas,” Yuugiri says, “you especially are not to speak of this to anyone. Not even your parents. Do you understand, child?”

“Y-Yes, Miss Yuugiri.”

“Good.”

Kamui transforms back into her human self, and Yuugiri wraps her coat around her. She feels really bad that the wyverns died all because she wanted to see them. Now the eggs will die too, and there’ll be no dragons on the island except for her. Yuugiri tells Gunter to take the eggs to the sanctuary, “The priests will look after them,” and that she’ll take both Kamui and Silas back to the mansion.

Once there, Silas goes to his room to wash up in a warm bath. Kamui does the same with help of Yuugiri. The woman doesn’t say anything, but she looks mad and Kamui can’t bring herself to break the silence.

“You’re still young,” Yuugiri finally says, helping her get into her fluffy nightdress. It keeps her really warm during the winter nights, “so I don’t expect you to understand quite yet. But sooner or later, little one, you need to be aware that this reality about you can have dire consequences if you’re not careful. It’s not fair; you should enjoy the childhood stage of your life. But because of the situation, you’ll have to grow up and mature a lot faster than a child should.”

“…Are you mad at me, Yuugiri?”

“A little bit. I’m more scared that something could’ve happened to you and I wouldn’t have been there to protect you. Why on _earth_ did you think approaching those wyverns was a good idea, milady? At nighttime, no less.”

Kamui swallowed hard. “I wanted to touch them. I wanted… to see something like me. But even when the wyverns got mad and I tried to talk to them in my dragon form to calm them down, they still didn’t like me. They said I’m still too human. And with people, I’m too much like a monster. Ryoma and the others get to have teachers to show them how to use their weapons. And there’s nobody around to help me train with my dragon form.”

“Is that why Silas took you to see them?”

“I dunno….”

Yuugiri doesn’t talk about it anymore afterward. She tucks Kamui into bed, wishes her sweet dreams, and then turns off the lantern. The door closes shut, and she’s covered in silence and darkness.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Kamui couldn’t sleep well last night. She knows she’s going to be punished, but she doesn’t know how. And she’s too scared to ask Yuugiri about what it’ll be. She doesn’t want her to write a letter to her mama telling her she snuck out at night.

During breakfast, she finally discovers what her punishment is.

“Lord Silas will be going home at the end of the week,” Gunter says. “He endangered a royal and almost got himself killed in the process. I’ve written a letter to his parents to take with him so they know of the situation.”

“But you can’t make him go home!” Kamui exclaims. She’s going to lose another friend all because of her. “I-It’s my fault, Gunter!”

“Milady, you don’t yet realize your social role. That is precisely why you’re going to be here for seven years—so that you may learn about the world you were born into and what you can do to contribute to it. Lord Silas is an unnecessary element at this time. He’d be better off training for knighthood.”

“I’m really sorry,” Silas says, staring at his plate. “I only wanted Princess Kamui to see something like her, so she thinks she’s ‘normal’ and doesn’t feel bad about being part dragon.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” Yuugiri sets her fork and knife down, “but also foolish. Queen Arete values both you and your family, so she’ll be disappointed that you couldn’t be a part of her plans after all. But I know she’d also be devastated if you died, as would your parents. One day you will see the princesses again. For now, you’re to return home forthwith. And absolutely no word whatsoever about her dragon form.”

“Y-Yes, ma’am. I promise.”

Silas bites his lip as he cries softly. He’s being punished for something she did. Is this what Yuugiri meant about consequences? Her dragon half really only brings trouble to people around her. Maybe she just shouldn’t use it at all.

After Silas leaves at the end of the week, life goes on as usual. Kamui takes her lessons with Azura, keeps her stockings and shoes on, and doesn’t bother Jakob and the girls when they’re in the kitchen. She doesn’t want to be punished again, or have her friends be punished too. She doesn’t even make trouble when they move into the Hoshidan villa for the next cycle of six months to learn about Hoshidan culture.

Being there only makes her miss home more, and her mama.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Kamui's final POV for part 1. But she'll have the majority of them in the other two parts, I think. And yay, we got to see a little of Silas! He too was supposed to be important as part of the Avatar's past, but he was also kinda just... there. So he's another character I'm looking at to see how I can give him more spotlight. (But there's no guarantees yet of how important his role will be.) Oh, yeah, I also greatly altered how they met and interacted too.
> 
> While she can understand how animals are feeling, Kamui can't actually talk to them. Except wyverns, but only when she's a dragon herself. Another creative liberty. Lol
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	33. XXXIII

Arete doesn’t know how this happened. Or even _why_ it happened. She was told that the throne room was closed because a new chandelier was being built.

So why is there now a circular carving of Anankos up on the ceiling?

It’s not his dragon form. It doesn’t even look like Janus. But it does look like illustrations from Vallite textbooks guessing what his human self might’ve looked like. Janus aside, the ancient creature has always been in his dragon form, so Arete can’t even be sure if the previous generations really had seen him as a human. But she’d never forget the conceptualizations from heresy, and it sends a chill through her spine.

The first thing she does, is write a follow-up letter to Azura. It’s difficult trying to explain without writing the word ‘Valla’ or ‘Anankos’ but she manages as best as possible. Once sent, she goes to the locked room in her study and takes out the Vallazinite stone she had finally finished shaping into an orb. It has enough magic in it at this point that it should work without an incantation.

Arete makes a small prick on her finger with a quill and smears the blood into the stone. It absorbs it immediately, and glows.

“Show me his presence,” she says. “That accursed ancient one. He’s here somewhere. I know it.”

Gradually the orb reveals a fuzzy figure at the center of it. Once it clears, Arete drops the thing on the floor, but it doesn’t break.

“Oh gods.” She grips the table behind her, staring at the image before her. The orb doesn’t lie. The stone reveals the truth about anyone and anything under the right circumstances. “This can’t…”

With trembling hands, she lifts the stone and dusts it off. Garon’s portrait is staring in another direction toward the side. Arete covers her mouth, biting back a yell. He’s not even here in the castle. Once again, he had left some days ago to calm threats of rebellion in the kingdom.

How on earth could he have fallen under Anankos’s control?

Arete hides the orb in a chest, locking it with a key and then hides that too under a little nook of the study table. She tries to go about the rest of her day with a stoic façade. Though when it’s announced Garon has returned to Windmire, her stomach flips.

The beat of her heart is the only thing she hears when the doors to the throne room open and he saunters in. His complexion is usually light, but now it looks gray. His frown is deep, and he doesn’t even smile when he sees her.

“Good day, my love,” he says.

“Hello. It’s nice to have you back. How were things?”

“Rebellion has been dealt with. Those who refused to surrender were killed.”

“You’ve never taken such extreme measures, dear. Usually you just imprison the unruly ones.”

“The cells are getting full. Besides, they’re peasants. Not like their lives were going to get any better. Might as well end their misery.”

Cruelty was never his game before. He’s a strict king, but not a cruel one. Never has she heard of him speak of the commoners like that. “And where is Iago? You took him with you, did you not?”

“I’ve left him in charge of stomping out any further protest in that area. He’ll be back within the next week or so. Perhaps. I don’t actually care all that much.”

When he passes by her, the clash of smells from the scented oils assaults her nose. Garon has more wrinkles on his face than the last time she’s seen him, and his armor has blood stains on it.

“Dear,” she starts carefully, “shouldn’t you wash up? Dinner will be ready soon. The cooks are preparing your favorite: a nice juicy hog with stuffed potatoes.”

“Oh.” He makes a noise at the back of his throat as he stares up at the Anankos carving. “Yes. Food. I need that, don’t I?” Garon rubs his temple with a hand, groaning. “I’m a bit tired now, so I think I’ll pass.”

He doesn’t wait for her to reply. Instead he exits out a side door to another hallway.

_I can’t stay here_ , Arete thinks. _But I can’t just leave either. And I need to warn Mikoto that Anankos has reached Nohr. If he gains full control of Garon—no, I don’t want to think about it._

Xander and the other children try to chat with her during dinner, but she doesn’t pay them much mind. It isn’t until Camilla says she tried to greet her father with news on her wyvern flying lessons that she pays attention.

“—but he didn’t even seem to care. And I was so sure that he would because of how hard it is to do. Instead he sort of yelled at me, saying to leave him alone for the night.” Camilla pokes at her carrots on the edge of her plate. “I didn’t even think I was being annoying.”

“That happened to me the other day,” adds Leo. “I wanted to show him the new things I learned from Brynhildr, but he just told me to go away. He was, uh… angry, for some reason.”

“Father has been acting weird lately,” Xander says. “Ever since he heard of leads as to who really killed my mother Katerina, he’s been distracted.”

Arete had tried to convince Garon not to go then—as she’s almost positive Iago had something to do with her friend’s murder. Iago told him about these leads after all from a ‘reliable’ source. But the king was so eager to find out who slaughtered his first wife that he went anyway, blindly trusting Iago like he always does. (When they weren’t reliable, he was docked half his pay, much to his frustration.)

He has been distant since then; the children are right. Garon has been so distant that he doesn’t even want to sleep in the same bed with Arete anymore. He always leaves to his study after dinner and never comes to the room. He hasn’t even once had the urge to engage in sex with her like he does at least once a week. That man, of all people, not wanting to fornicate with his wife who he used to compliment as beautiful and alluring?

Something is definitely wrong.

“Mother?” asks Xander. “What’s the matter? You haven’t really touched your food.”

“I guess I’m not all that hungry this evening.”

“Is it the Dragon Veins again?”

“Yes. They’re still infecting our land, so I think I’m going to take another excursion to run some more tests. Soon autumn will be upon us, and our crops this harvest need to be plentiful. Winter might be harsh again.”

Though she tells him that, she’s not actually going to investigate the Dragon Veins this time.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


Garon doesn’t think twice when Arete tells him she has to do further research at the edges of Nohr near the great mountain pass. He just gives her whatever funds she needs and a small convoy to guard her now that Gunter is occupied elsewhere. Before she leaves, she writes a short letter to Mikoto, telling her about the carving. It’s best she knows as soon as possible.

It takes over a week to get to the mountain, and some of the guards are disgruntled having to go so far for ‘science’. Even with the promise of a bonus, their spirits aren’t lifted by very much. Arete figures these are some of the people who still don’t respect her as queen, despite it having been years since she took the throne.

They stop at the stormy pass where Katerina had been slain. The Dragon Veins here have dried up all the land, leaving it arid and dusty. The dirt is a grayish purple. Even the hardiest of plants have turned brown, joining the nearby trees in devastation, bare of any leaves whatsoever.

She has some of the guards set up her tent while others scout the area for potential bandits. Very few villages are this far north into the mountains, so some of the ruined ones may be hideouts for felons. Better to be safe than sorry.

Arete takes her horse and explores for about a mile. There aren’t any remnants of where Katerina had fallen, except for a weathered lone arrow on one of the cliffs down below. If she wants to prove Iago really did have a hand in this, she’ll need any evidence she can get. Maybe make some sort of truth spell that will force him to come clean, as she can’t very well reveal the Vallazinite orb, especially if Garon is somehow possessed by Anankos now.

Looking back to make sure nobody is following her, Arete presses her hand to the cliff slide and activates the Vein. It rumbles slightly as a mound moves upward toward her with the arrow still lodged in its center. She plucks it out quickly and sends the earth back into its usual shape.

The arrow has an iron hilt, and the feathers from its end are gone now. The arrowhead is rusted and brittle, but if she grounds it into some sort of power, perhaps she can use it in a concoction for a truth mixture of some kind. Nohrian magic has so many spells and potion recipes within its books, so she just has to find the right combination to make it work.

Now the only issue would be getting Iago to drink or consume it. Maybe if she bribes one of the cooks, they can just slip it in his dessert or season it on his particular cut of—

“Well, this is interesting.”

She turns around, hiding the arrow in her cloak. Arete grits her teeth as Iago himself stares at her with a grin. “What are you doing here, knave? Shouldn’t you be on your assignment from Garon?”

“Oh it’s already been completed. But as he gave me an excess of funds, I didn’t see why I couldn’t splurge and travel a bit. I thought, ‘well, there must be _something_ interesting in all the areas Queen Arete visits for her research’ so I took a trip here. It was the closest one.”

Iago swaggers toward her, his hands behind his back. “And what a surprise to see that you can, in fact, tap into the power of the Dragon Veins.” His smile falls, and then he grimaces. “You’re weren’t really a peasant, were you? There’s no village of yours up here. I’ve looked at every map available in the library, and even the most insignificant of places is logged on one of them. Except yours.”

“Mind your business and leave me to my work.”

“That isn’t an option, considering you might be a threat to King Garon.”

Her spell book is clasped to her horse’s saddle some feet away, and she can’t be sure she’ll make the sprint before Iago can attack her. If she uses the Veins, that’ll only make her history all the more suspicious. Everyone knows only royals have dragon blood in their bodies, and even a few individuals from the noble houses.

But Iago isn’t an idiot, despite how much she wants him to be. He’ll make it his life’s goal to go back generations of every noble house in Nohr if she tries to say she’s from one of them in actuality.

_I have to fight my way through this problem. And since there’s no option but to use the Dragon Veins, that means I need to kill him so he doesn’t give Garon any ideas._

Some screams and clashing of metal are heard in the distance where her camp is stationed. Unholy growls echo along the evening winds, though Iago is undeterred. Heavy footsteps approach, and out from behind the boulders the Faceless trudge in their direction.

“What are those wretched abominations doing here?” she sneers.

“Like you, I too like to experiment.”

“This is unnatural. You should’ve left Violetta’s blasphemous work alone, Iago. These corpses won’t bring you anything good. Dark magic never does.”

“I wanted to see if they could survive even in harsh environments. Your convoy being here just so happened to be a happy accident.”

“For who?”

There are three Faceless surrounding her. One of them walks toward the horse, and the animal begins to shake its head and back away, neighing. If it runs, then she’ll have no way to get to her spells or to the camp.

Arete stomps her foot, activating the Dragon Veins, and sharp stones jut out suddenly in front of Iago. He gives a shout as he stumbles backward and she sprints to her steed. She whistles, and the horse gallops toward her. Arete swings herself onto the saddle and unlatches her tome, shooting lightning toward the first Faceless.

It staggers backward, and she shoots at it again until it tumbles over the cliff and out of sight. Iago sends a fireball her way and she swerves her steed out of its trajectory. Arete snaps the reigns and the horse gallops back to the camp. When she gets there, a fire has broken out and her convoy is struggling to fight off the Faceless.

She shoots more lightning toward the monsters. They don’t fall, but instead earn a gash or gaping hole that oozes some black liquid. Wherever it drips, it sizzles, and she figures it must be some kind of acid or poison. Leave it to Iago to be overzealous with his work.

Half of her men and women are dead by the time she cuts down most of the Faceless. When she has slain the last of them, Iago approaches from a corner of debris. Out of nowhere arrows rain down on the camp, striking the remainder of her soldiers. Whether in the neck or somewhere in the chest, they all fall. She dodges all of the arrows and guides her horse away from the site once the gusts make it impossible for the arrows to hit their direct target (her).

_I’m positive now that he did kill her. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is a reenactment from that terrible day._

The horse is knocked aside by a Faceless that lunged at it, seemingly out of nowhere. Arete is flung off and clutches at her side after she hits the ground. The Faceless grabs the horse with its hulking arms and tosses it against a nearby boulder. It makes an ugly crunch sound when it smacks against the stone. The monster doesn’t bother with her, but instead makes it way to the animal. Its mask lifts open slightly, revealing rotting teeth from a blackened mouth, and she can only assume her poor steed is about to be a meal.

Arete cries out as a blast of fire strikes her in the leg. Iago laughs, a flame ignited in the palm of his hand. “This was an ambush,” she growls. “I don’t know how you knew I’d be here, but you did. You planned this. Just like you killed Katerina.”

“Oh the late queen died in battle fighting off blood-thirsty bandits,” Iago says, feigning hurt as he places a hand on his chest. “I didn’t harm a single hair on her head. I tried my best to protect her.”

“ _Liar._ ”

“Even if I was, who’s going to believe you? A dead woman’s word means nothing.”

She rolls out of the way as he sends another spurt of fire at her. Arete leans against a boulder, tome at the ready. There’s no way she can run with a burned leg. It’s bleeding and raw and needs treatment. Her horse is probably half-eaten by now, and she prays to the gods that Iago doesn’t plan for her to die that way too.

Her soldiers have perished. She’s injured, and her only mount is out of commission. There aren’t any nearby villages to flee to, and even if there were, Iago would probably attack them too. There’s no outcome where she lives. Even if she kills Iago with her lightning, the remaining Faceless back in Castle Krakenburg will go rogue without anyone controlling them. The people Iago hired, whether more soldiers or nameless bandits, will also kill her so she can’t speak of their treachery against the crown.

It’s here she realizes she should’ve told Mikoto about the Anankos situation through the communication opal instead of sending a letter. But Arete wanted to hide the opal in her private study for Azura to find one day, along with the Vallazinite orb. Azura is going to need all the resources she can get. Especially now that it looks like this will be the end of the line for Arete.

She can’t run away from this, literally.

“You want to know who I am?” she asks, throwing her spell book aside. Iago listens intently, the fire from his hand fading away. “I’ll tell you who I am, but you’re not going to like it.”

_I’m so sorry, Mikoto. I pray that one day you can forgive me, sister._

“My name is Arete,” she starts, “Queen of Nohr. But before that, I was Queen Freyja of Valla, a kingdom now hidden at the very bottom of the mountain pass.”

The familiar pain begins to surge through her body and she cries out through clenched teeth as the purple blotches creep up her legs.  “It’s currently ruled by the last ancient dragon, Anankos. He wasn’t able to ascend like his brethren and so has gone mad. Once he’s free of whatever bindings keep him there, he will come after Nohr and Hoshido. He hates all humans—wants to destroy every last one; nobody is safe! And it’s only just begun! King Garon has already succumbed to his control whether knowingly or not!”

She swallows another cry as her body begins to deteriorate into water droplets. “Anankos has wiped all knowledge of Valla and himself out of history up here on the surface. Nobody remembers, except for me and one other. It’s cursed to speak of it, and you will perish where you stand if you do. Like I am.”

Iago looks at her in horror as her body continues to dissolve into droplets that float away along the gales. “And now, you have this cursed knowledge, you wretched creature,” she says with a grin. “But a pity you can’t tell anyone, lest you want to die. And I know how much of a coward you are, so I know you won’t share it with anyone. Not that you can do anything to stop the mad god’s wrath.”

He sputters, and she chuckles through her pain at his distress. “You try to even write the words or spell them out in any way, you will also die. You’re doomed to perish one way or another, Iago. And I can’t wait for that moment.”

“You foul woman!” he cries. “I don’t believe you! Th-This is just an illusion!”

“Then try it. Go on.” She chokes for a second as the pain creeps into her lungs. “Say the name ‘Valla’,” she gasps. “Call my bluff if you dare, worm. Only I know the truth.” He doesn’t move. “ _Say it!_ ”

But the man doesn’t. He only glares at her from where he stands. Arete laughs weakly. “I thought so. I wanted to kill you here for what you did to Katerina, but now I’m thinking I don’t have to. In Valla, we believe in ‘karma’. It’s the origin of the phrase you Nohrians know as ‘what goes around comes around’. And you will get your just desserts, Iago. A shame that I won’t be here to see that day.”

He yells something at her, looking panicked, but she doesn’t hear him. She can’t breathe, and her vision is cluttered with sparkling droplets of water. She thinks of Azura, prays her daughter will survive the burden on her shoulders. Prays for Kamui, that one day she’ll have full control of her dragon form and become the remedy to Anankos’s madness.

Mikoto will cry—will feel her death, or foresee it, if she hasn’t already. She knows she will. And Arete can only pray she’s grown enough to survive on her own and guide Kamui and Azura into the future. No, she will. She’s become strong already, and she’ll get through this, one way or another.

_Do not weep for me, Karuna. Live, and help restore our fallen kingdom. This is our duty as Vallites._

She sees her sister’s beaming face one last time, and then she can’t see or feel anything at all.

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


“Mother!”

Takumi calls for her in a high-pitched yell. His small hands push on her back to get her upright. Mikoto’s head rings and her vision is fogged by an image of Arete. Her sister is shouting at a man with oily hair, and her body is dissipating into droplets of water. They’re on some sort of mountain in the middle of the storm.

She doesn’t know what they’re saying, but she reads her sister’s lips, and the sad smile on her face says it all: ‘ _I’m sorry, Mikoto. Please forgive me._ ’

And then she’s gone in a flurry of water droplets.

Mikoto holds her head as the ringing stops, and opens her eyes to see Takumi staring worriedly at her, his own eyes glistening with the threat of tears. “Are you okay, Mother?!”

“What?”

“You f-fell when you were showing me how to draw my string.” Her yumi is thrown off to the side, the arrow next to it. Oh, yes, she had been teaching the boy how to aim at aerial targets in the castle training grounds.

“I’m sorry, Takumi,” she says, standing up. “But I need to… go lie down for a bit.”

He pauses, tilting his head. “Well… okay. Maybe you should rest, yeah. Go eat a peach. I’ll keep practicing out here.”

She leaves him to it with another instructor, and then hurries to her room. Along the way, one of the ninja tells her she’s received a letter from Queen Arete. Surely, it can’t be a coincidence. Taking it in her hand and thanking the man, Mikoto continues to her room in haste. When she’s positive she’s alone and nobody is wandering the halls of the royal wing, she’s quick to open the letter and read it carefully:  
  


> _Dearest sister, we have a problem._
> 
> _He has surfaced in our very throne room. There is a new statue of him up on the ceiling. And worse, I think my husband is succumbing to his possession. As to how much, I’m unsure. I don’t know how this happened, or why, or even when. But the point is that we’re running out of time. It’s been years since we left our home, and he’s barely gotten this far. I can only assume he’ll stay weak for some more number of years, but we still cannot slack off about handling this situation._
> 
> _I don’t intend to panic you, but you have a right to be informed. I’m going to study more Dragon Veins near the mountain pass, and get to the bottom of Katerina’s murder, so we will have to talk later._
> 
> _Take care for now._
> 
> _Arete_

  
Oh no. No, no no no. She’s going to the mountain pass—doesn’t know what awaits her there. Mikoto takes out the enchanted opal as her heartbeat runs a mile a minute. She says into it, “Arete, Arete can you hear me?” No answer. “I got your letter, but I’m afraid we might not be able to talk about what was said in it because of something horrible that’s to come! Arete, please. Please get this message! I just had a vision of your death—that man, the one you said you didn’t like, the tactician. Keep your distance. Something is going to go wrong a-and—you will die because of the _thing._ The accursed thing and… oh gods… why would you…”

Arete never answers her back. Not the next day, or even the next week.

It isn’t until the following month in a letter from the Nohrian crown that she finds out her sister truly has perished. And the worst part is, according to it, Arete died the day after Mikoto’s vision. There wouldn’t have been adequate time to warn her.

Sumeragi does all he can to console his wife, but she prefers to spend her time alone in the garden’s gazebo, staring out into the pond. She can’t tell him why she’s so upset. She can’t tell him that she just lost her sister and now the burden of fate falls on her shoulders to make sure their daughters survive long enough to kill Anankos. She can’t tell him of Valla.

There’s no funeral, because there’s no body. And if Iago truly was part of Arete’s demise, it wouldn’t be safe to go there. Among other things, such as Anankos managing to worm his way into Nohr through possessing its king. It leaves grave implications about what might result from this.

Maybe that’s the real reason why there wasn’t a funeral. Garon loved Arete, and had he been himself, he would’ve honored her passing appropriately.

Yukimura is accommodating the following days. He joins Mikoto outside in the gazebo sometimes, whether to have tea or speak of official matters. Things she might’ve missed in meetings with the council. Days where she doesn’t want to be in her husband’s company, or that of her step-children’s.

And it’s on one of those days she gets another splitting pain in her head, dropping the pot as she’s serving them tea.

She sees Kamui, older and taller, and oh how beautiful her daughter is going to be when she’s matured. She looks so much like Mikoto did at that age, but she has Janus’s eyes and his smile. Mikoto doesn’t rejoice for long at the image. There’s chaos in the plaza where the Dawn Dragon statue rests, and some foe causes a shockwave that throws the citizens off their feet. Shards of stone fly toward Kamui, and Mikoto screams, running toward her.

There’s no pain, but she looks down, and her torso is pelted with these stones, blood dripping from the wounds. Kamui is crying over her, screaming, and then the vision blackens.

“Lady Mikoto!” Yukimura helps her to her feet, guiding her to the cushion. “Are you alright?!”

“I’m… I’m fine….”

“This is the second fall you’ve had in two weeks. You ought to see a healer, milady.”

“No, no I’m…,” she swallows, “I’m alright. I promise you.”

“Even though you say that, I would still advise you be examined as a precaution. Lord Sumeragi will worry to no end otherwise, as will the children.”

“They’re just my visions,” she says. “But they’ve never hit me this hard.”

“Was this like the vision of Queen Arete’s demise you had before?” the man asks softly.

“Yes. Except this time…” she stares at the broken shards of the pot, and the tea dripping through the cracks in the wooden floorboards, “…I believe,” she looks up at him, “I just foresaw my own death, Yukimura.”

His face pales, and he shakes his head. “No, no milady. That’s not—” She knows it’s perhaps difficult for him to hear this again from yet another Hoshidan queen. And she wishes it wasn’t the reality of the situation.

“My visions never lie. I wasn’t able to stop Queen Arete from dying, and I won’t be able to stop this. I don’t want to worry you with details. But I will pass on when Kamui is already a young lady. When she’s old enough to take care of herself. I have… a few years left. Please, please don’t tell anyone.”

“But—”

“You mustn’t, Yukimura.” Mikoto takes his hands and clasps them tightly in hers. She keeps eye contact as she adds, “No good will come of this if you inform Sumeragi or anyone else. I’m so sorry to burden you with this knowledge. I hope you can forgive me. But promise me you will keep this a secret until that day comes. Promise me.”

“I…,” he looks down at the table, and then sighs silently, “I promise, your majesty.”

“Thank you.”

It’s strange. She doesn’t feel like weeping over her own eventual death. Maybe it’s because she knows how it’s going to happen, or that Kamui will still be alive and well then. Maybe it’s because she can plan how she wants to continue her reign as queen until she perishes. Or perhaps it’s because Arete’s faith in her holds true, and Mikoto will make it up to that point by holding her words close to her heart.

She doesn’t have her sister to look after her anymore. Anankos continues to take and take and _take_ from her and her family without restraint. No doubt this might be another event of his doing.

But if Kamui and Azura survive, it’s worth it in the end, even if Mikoto won’t get to see it herself. And now she’s the only one who can ensure they’re ready to face their destiny. She won’t fail them.

“Let’s get another tea pot going, Yukimura. I no longer have time on my side, and there’s still much to do.”

“O-Of course, milady.”

_Freyja, I have belief that everything will be alright in the end, even if we’re not there to see it. Our daughters will mend things. In this, I have the utmost faith. Please watch over us, Sister._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rest in peace, Arete. ;-; Obviously, this is her final POV, possibly for the rest of the entire story. As for Mikoto, she'll have more POVs, but I don't know how many yet.
> 
> The game never explains how Garon got possessed by Anankos. He just does. It's one of the lazy points of writing in the canon, so I'm going to explain my take on it. Eventually. It won't come for a long time, but I already have it planned out.
> 
> What I _don't_ have planned out, is what I want to do with Iago. That scene with him and Arete didn't unravel the way I had it in my outline. But this is just another case of the characters writing themselves, so now my job is to follow up on it at some point. Lol Let's hope I can do it smoothly enough.
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	34. XXXIV

By the time he’s finished sealing his other half, most of Valla is in shambles. Some parts of the land twist in the air like ribbons, suspended only by the residue of the mad god’s power. Rushing water flows through them like a needle and thread. The majority of Vallites have died, whether in the chaos of the battle, or helping him seal his dragon form in the throne room of Castle Gyges. Many towns are in ruins, and the land that isn’t suspended in the air is either upturned or pulverized.

“Sir, what do we do now?” one man asks him. His wounds will scar unflatteringly soon enough, and he’s missing the lower half of his left arm. There are many in a similar state, but their exhaustion, pain, or missing limbs doesn’t dissipate their determination to stand.

“You live,” Janus replies. “Guard this castle, but stay away from the chamber where he’s imprisoned. Make strongholds in the places my other half didn’t ruin. Keep a watchful eye on the flicking purple soldiers of the undead. Honor those who sacrificed themselves to weaken this creature. Those that died in the fray, and the volunteers who offered to be part of the ritual so I could seal him for a time.”

Janus had to give up half of his mortal life span too for the seal to work. It won’t hold Anankos back forever, but at least he’s severely weakened now. Without his human form, he won’t have half the power he did before he split himself.

“What about Queen Freyja and Princess Karuna?” a woman asks. She has a bandage across the right side of her face. “I didn’t once see them helping us, Lord Janus.”

“Please, don’t call me that.” He gives a weak smile. “It feels… weird.”

“You’re all that’s left of what was once good about him.”

“And I understand, but I’d rather be of equal footing with all of you.” Janus takes a seat on a broken stone outside of the castle. He pauses to rest a moment, and then continues, “I asked both Freyja and Karuna to flee with their children.” That’s only partially true, but he doesn’t want the people’s last image of the royal family to be painted as cowards. “They need to warn Nohr and Hoshido about this.”

“How? We’re wiped out of history completely.”

“I know. But they’ll make it. He _will_ be defeated. I can’t guarantee all of you will live long enough to see this country restored, but it will come. Several years from now, the royal family will return and slay my other half so he may finally ascend, like he should’ve.”

“Where will that leave you?”

The question he hoped they wouldn’t ask, but knew he would have to answer eventually. Sometimes he hates being a god with future vision. “I won’t live long enough to see that either. I already gave half my life to keep him bound to Valla, and I will lose the rest of it sooner than later.”

Everyone around him frowns or looks away. Some grumble to themselves or toss a rock at the grass. He knows they’re frustrated. Janus was their leader throughout the whole conflict, a ray of hope, and they don’t want to see him leave so soon when there’s still so much to be done.

“I have a child,” he starts. “A daughter. Princess Divya, though her name will undoubtedly change for her safety. As she holds my blood, and that of Princess Karuna,” some murmuring starts, and he forgets that not everyone knows Karuna was his lover, “she’ll help you slay me when the time is right. I’ve also given her family the key to weakening my power so I’m vulnerable enough to die by their hand. Until then, endure.”

Once he’s on his feet again, they all ask him where he’ll go. “Other nearby realms to seek help. There’s bound to be at least one universe where heroes slay a dragon of this proportion. I need to do this much, at least, before my time is up.”

He doesn’t pack anything as the survivors need all the resources they can get. After a tearful goodbye from his allies, he opens up a portal and steps through the Astral Plane. The universe that connects one world to the others at the farthest reaches of reality. It’s black, yet glitters in so many specs that they look like stars in the night sky.

“Why have you come here, God Anankos?”

Before him is a glowing opalescent dragon. Her wings are like lace, flowing along a non-existent breeze. More like her materialize around him, until they enclose him in a circle. All of them shimmer in ethereal colors, one slightly different than the next. Some don’t have eyes, others have no limbs, and some have heads that are just detached crystals. The biggest of them all and the most standardly draconic—he knows his name. Moro, the leader of the Astral Dragons. Beings that don’t exist anywhere except here.

There’s tales among his kin that some dragons who ascend become Astral Dragons. But he doesn’t know how true that is. He doesn’t recognize a single one of them here.

“I’m looking for someone to help destroy me.” The congregation stares at him silently. “Uh, I mean, my other half. The one who is wreaking havoc in my realm. If he’s not slain, then he’ll try to extend his powers to this plane once he’s done there, and eventually swallow other realms. I can’t have that.”

“You can’t just go into whichever world you so please,” Moro says. “We have rules here, Anankos.”

“Please, call me Janus.”

“No. You are Anankos, and nobody else.” Moro is a quadrupedal dragon and has a long thick mane that hangs off his long neck, stopping just above his clawed hands. It shimmers in all known colors to man. “You aren’t permitted to travel to any worlds that haven’t already suffered. If what you say is true about your mad half, then he’ll bring ruin to them should he find out your rescuers don’t belong in his domain.”

“I understand.”

Moro nods, and then the other dragons disappear in glittering shards. The worlds in the Astral Plane are shaped like orbs, their edges lined with color, like an opal’s. Some of them white out, and Janus assumes those are the ones he isn’t allowed to touch.

“Go and find your solution,” Moro says, turning away. “Just make sure you aren’t making a grave error by doing so.”

That’s how he spends the next few years. He travels through the worlds that have already endured war and chaos. Some of them are rebuilding, others are already into their futures of peace. And some are desolate, too damaged by war for there to be any living being left in it. Many have humans. A few have dragon-like people, or shapeshifting beasts. And some he doesn’t even know how to describe. The worlds range in flora and fauna, and even in technology. Some are primitive, or highly advanced that he wouldn’t know how to define the innovations, and others fall somewhere in-between.

It’s when he stops in one particular world that he finds what he’s looking for.

Janus steps through the portal in an open field of grass. Small white flowers poke through the blades and along the clovers. Patches of charred land are here and there, and a castle in the far distance lays in ruins, its kingdom along with it. But the clear blue sky and the quiet field speaks of a war that has just ended, and can finally be free of its source for good.

There are makeshift graves here. Uneven large sticks are placed at the center of the mounds. Each one is tied with a colored cloth of different fabrics, or whatever is left of them anyway.

Humming calls to him in the far distance of the east. Janus spends a few days walking undisturbed toward the sound. It leads him to a tree of titanic proportions with iridescent leaves. He presses his hand to the bark, and his fatigue is washed away.

“Mila Tree.” He’s never heard of it, but he somehow knows what it’s called. It’s ancient, just like him, so perhaps it made the connection through that similarity.

The sound of metal sliding against a sheath comes from behind him, and then, “Who are you?”

Janus is faced with four young adults brandishing different makes of swords. They’re only slightly younger than how he remembers Karuna being. Two women, and two men. One woman has piercing eyes and maroon hair in pigtails. The second man has light blue hair, and the other has a soft brown color in a shorter style. But it isn’t them that catches Janus’s attention. Rather, the young woman standing in front of them, her long sword drawn in her right hand. Thick navy locks cascade over her shoulders and down her back.

Not one of them looks like they’ve slept well. Dark circles are under their eyes, and their clothes look worn.

“I’ll ask again: who are you?” the woman repeats.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” Janus says. He removes his hood, and holds his hands up. “I promise. I just came here looking for help.”

Their shoulders droop but they don’t put away their weapons. “Are you a survivor?”

“Of… what?”

All four stare at him as if he’s got three heads. “Of Grima’s destruction,” the other woman says in a bitter tone.

“I don’t know who Grima is, I’m afraid. I’ve come from another world, you see.”

“Interesting.” The man with brown hair is the first to sheath his sword. He smiles, and clears his throat. “And to what do we owe the honor of meeting face-to-face with a manakete?”

“A… manakete?”

“Yeah, that’s what we call the dragon kind in this world.” He points to his own ears. “Got these a little shorter than the ones we have here though.”

“O-Oh, right! I’m not a manakete.” Janus rubs at the cartilage along his oddly-shaped ears. “But I am a dragon. A dragon god, actually. Or, half of him anyway. The one that didn’t go mad and destroyed an entire civilization because of it.”

The most regal-looking one—the woman with the navy hair—gives a nod to her friends and they all put away their swords. “What is your name?”

“I can’t tell you my god name, or the name given to me by my love, lest my other half finds me here. But you can call me… Fate.”

“You trying to be funny or something?” the second girl asks, crossing her arms and giving him a scowl. “‘Cause we ain’t laughing, that’s for sure.”

“I promise I’m not trying to be funny or deceive you.”

“Let’s hear him out, yes?” the second man says, the one with a soothing voice and a twinkle in his eye. “But we can’t guarantee we’ll be able to help you, Fate.”

“Fair enough.”

Janus sits with the four of them an explains what happened in his world. They’re silent for a minute afterward, and then tell him of one of their own dragon gods, Grima, that tried to destroy all they ever knew. He was slain eventually, but not before these young ones lost people and homes dear to them. They were able to fix things by traveling to the past and establishing a peaceful new timeline.

“Why’d you come back here then?” he asks softly. “If everything is better in that one?”

“To see if things changed,” replies Regal One. “And also because we can’t stay in the timeline where our other selves will grow up and see us. But something went wrong and… when our other friends came back with us through the portal, they were dead.”

“We figured that meant in this fixed timeline, they didn’t survive,” the brown-haired man explains. “Grima’s gone, sure, but it still sucks that they—,” he inhales, sitting up straight and putting a fist to his chest, “—our comrades fought bravely, to the end! We should not weep for them, but remember their victories and give gratitude for their heroic—”

“So those graves I saw some days ago,” Janus says, cutting in, “were of your friends?”

“Yes,” replies Regal One.

“And that kingdom in the distance?”

“That was the kingdom of Ylisse. Its royal family is gone, except for me and my cousin.” She gestures to the man with brown hair. “The remaining people are scattered elsewhere, but there aren’t many of them.”

“You don’t want to gather them up and try to rebuild?”

She’s quiet, and stares at her lap. “I haven’t decided. I wouldn’t even know where to start. I want to be a good exalt one day, but… maybe only my other self in the good timeline will be fortunate enough to get there.”

Nobody says anything. The large tree rustles gently in the wind, and the streams that run underneath the massive thick roots are disturbed only by the occasional bird or frog splashing about.

“If we help you,” the second man says, the one with light blue hair, “what will we get in return?”

“Can you bring back our parents?” the pigtail woman asks. “Our friends? If you really want us to help you, you gotta make our end of the deal good.” 

“I…,” Janus swallows, “I can’t do that, unfortunately. If I brought them back, they wouldn’t be the same. They’d be undead and half-mindless. I’m not a god of this specific world, so those kinds of powers won’t have the same effect here.”

“Oh.” She bites her plump lip, and glances off to the side. “You said you saw their graves?”

“Yes.”

“…Could you maybe, I dunno. Make them nice graves, and fill that field with flowers? Make it look beautiful?”

Janus smiles. “That, I can do.”

Regal One hums, and then stands to dust off her clothes. “Very well. Then we’ll help you. Since we can’t figure out what else to do here yet, a change of scenery might give us inspiration. We also have _some_ experience of dragon god-slaying.”

“Lovely.” The second man rises with the others, and slicks his hair back. “Another world in need of our bravery. And maybe some enchanting ladies too.”

“Oh gods, don’t even _start._ ” Pigtailed Girl flicks her hair back. “You’ll probably chase all of them off.”

“Is somebody jealous, milady?” he asks with a wink.

“ _Puh-lease_ , Inigo. In your wildest dreams.”

“That’s right—we forgot to introduce ourselves.” Regal One holds out her hand for a shake. “I’m Lucina. My cousin over there is Owain,” he strikes a dramatic pose, shielding his face with a hand, “this is Severa,” the other woman cocks her hip to one side and gives a nod, “and that is Inigo.”

“Well it’s nice to meet you all,” Janus says with a smile. “I’m looking forward to getting to know my new heroes better.”

There’s a ringing in his ear, and then he’s shoving them out of the way with a blast of water from the stream. An arrow of magic slices through the air where they had just been standing, and Janus sharpens another water attack into a spear, sending it flying toward the offender.

Its familiar purple aura has his stomach do a flip, and the even more familiar face has his mouth going dry.

“Oh no. He got you too….”

  
⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡ ⟡  
  


His heroes manage to defeat Anankos’s newest victim of possession. Janus quickly warps them away from the Mila Tree afterward, and takes them to his world at the very edges of Nohr. It’s sundown when they end up at an abandoned fortress near a cliff side. The sky paints the land with oranges and yellows as the sun sinks beyond the horizon.

“I thought you said he couldn’t find you if you didn’t speak his name!” Severa yells, hopping to her feet. “Huh?!”

“Sorry, I was sure he couldn’t. I don’t know how—”

“We’re here already,” Lucina defends, “and so we can only move forward. Right Fate?”

“Yes.” He faces all four of them, and Severa is still glaring. “Every time you kill one of his soldiers, he weakens. He needs to divide his power in order to extend his hand from beyond his prison. Whenever one of his soldiers dies, he gets weaker. Me being split from him has already weakened him significantly. But that seal isn’t going to hold forever.”

Janus concentrates energy into the palms of his hands, shaping it into four small orbs. “But you’ll all need disguises during your time here. He’s heard your names, so the less you’re you, the better.”

The orbs shape into small jewels, each of a different color. “Take one of these, and I’ll give you some of my power.”

“Won’t that also weaken you?” Inigo asks.

“It will, but my time is coming to a close anyway.” He smiles sadly, and the others give him pitying glances. They hesitantly take a jewel each. Then the stones burst and embrace them with a warm light. Their hair colors alter, and clothes reform to match modern Nohrian fashion.

“As for your names, you’ll be Selena,” he points to Severa, now wearing the Mercenary uniform, her hair a much more vibrant red, “Laslow,” he’s also sporting a Mercenary uniform, and his hair is a pale blue, almost gray in tone, “Odin,” the man’s hair has turned blond, and he now wears a Dark Mage’s ensemble, “and Lucetta.” Lucina’s hair is the only one whose hue has stayed more or less the same, except it’s now in a long braid down her back. She wears the Nohrian cavalier armor.

“This outfit is hella cute,” Selena says, giving herself a twirl. “ _Way_ better than my old one.”

“Yes,” Laslow grins, admiring the intricate sewing patterns of the puffy sleeves, “they are, aren’t they? I’m sure to attract _some_ female attention.”

Odin flips through his tome, eyes sparkling. “By the gods! I… I’m a mage! Of the dark arts! Thank you, oh great Fate! I’ve always wanted to try magic! You won’t be disappointed, I promise!”

“Where’s the Falchion?” Lucetta asks, glaring at the lance she was given instead. “And my shield! The Fire Emblem! My father gave those to me!”

“I’ve used both as a charm back in your world to prevent my other half from returning there,” he answers. “I imbued some of my power in the objects so they hide your world from his reach until your task is complete.”

“But it’s important! It was made specifically to slay dragons and the Emblem can—!”

“Don’t worry, Lucetta.” Janus places a hand on her shoulder. “In my home, here, there’s both a weapon that can slay dragons, and even another Fire Emblem.”

“A… Another Fire Emblem?” She shakes her head. “That’s not possible; there’s only one. Where are we?”

“You’re at the furthest reaches of Nohr, one half of the kingdoms of this land. The other is Hoshido, to the east. They’re split in half by that mountain pass in the distance,” he points to where dark storm clouds mask the peaks, “and have vastly different cultures.”

“Nohr? Hoshido?” Odin taps his chin. “Where have I heard those names before?”

“In storybooks,” Laslow answers. He gives Janus a look. “In our world, the kingdoms of Nohr and Hoshido are myths at best. Some ‘lost’ continent at the bottom of the ocean, below the one that Ylisse and the others now rest on. They don’t exist.”

“But they do,” counters Janus, gesturing his hand to the land all around them, “except in another universe. This one. It has its own Fire Emblem, except the individual parts are not jewels, but divine weapons. All five of them must resonate together to form it. It must also be blessed by a god, and wielded by somebody worthy of it.”

“And who is that? Did you foresee that too?”

“I have. Everything will fall into place. You just need to trust me, and survive.” Janus clasps his hands together again, and then four small vials rest in his palms. “Drink this. One for each of you.” The heroes take the vials and consume it with one swig, then cough and brush their tongues with their sleeves.

“ _What_ the hell was that?” Selena asks. “It tasted awful.”

“Dragon blood. My blood, specifically.”

“Gross. _Gross!_ ” Selena tosses the vial to the ground. “You some kinda freak?!”

“Selena,” Lucetta scolds, “I’m sure he had good reason. …Right?”

Janus laughs lightly. “Yes, I didn’t do it to be gross. With my blood, you now have the ability to activate the Dragon Veins. They’re reservoirs of primordial energy below the earth. You’ll be able to feel when they’re nearby. With this, you can alter the landscape to your will. Only Nohrian and Hoshidan royals possess this power though. You need to be _very_ careful that none of them witness you can do it too.”

“And how will we know who they are?”

“You’ll know. Seek them out. Work with them. Become their allies. Your mission is to defeat my other half. But you can’t say anything about what I’ve told you. About the fallen kingdom beneath the mountain pass, or the mad god. It’s cursed, and will kill anyone who speaks of it. The only reason why I didn’t dissolve into nothing after I told you back at the Mila Tree, is because it’s technically my curse. Just from other me.”

“That’s great,” Selena comments. “This job is sounding lovely already.”

“So then, uh, what exactly… are we supposed to even do if we can’t talk about it?” Odin asks.

“Help my daughter. Protect her. Guide her. She’s currently in Hoshido, but she’ll come to Nohr in due time. She doesn’t know her true origins or even her true name. Help her cousin too, who’s also in a similar predicament. Both girls will need all the help they can get to stop other me. This cousin is currently in Nohr. Your best bet right now is to become retainers to the Nohrian royal family. They’ll be looking for new ones soon. I know you can do it.”

“Understood.” Lucetta stands straight, the butt of her lance firmly planted into the ground. “How will we know who your daughter is?”

“You’ll know her when you see her.”

“Can you at least tell us her name, the one she uses now? It’d be much more helpful.”

“It’s—”

Odin gives a shout and blasts thunder magic off to the side. “Uh, guys?” He points to where a horde of Anankos’s minions are rising from a purple portal on the ground. “I think they found us again.”

Janus waves his hand, and a large mask for each of the heroes engulfs their face and their hair. If Anankos can’t see what they look like, he’ll have a harder time figuring out where they’re going and for what purpose. “Fight! Practice using the powers I’ve given you!”

He himself doesn’t have much left in him to aid them. He can only instruct on how to use the Veins to their advantage and dodge any attacks his way. Lucetta and Odin are better at controlling it, perhaps because they’re royals themselves. But that shouldn’t mean anything significant since they’re not from here anyway. Selena and Laslow are more adept at using their weapons, although it could be because their weapons haven’t changed from their previous identities.

All four of them are excellent combatants, even Odin, for being so new with magic. Their reflexes are quick, and their attacks are timed carefully to take out as many foes at once. Practice from fighting in their own war against a god will do that to a person, he supposes.

From the hordes of enemies comes a girl. She’s short, looks around 16 or so, and has his exact same hair color. A vibrant blue with crimson tips. The irises of her eyes are the same shade of yellow circling slit pupils like his. Even her ears are pointy, and a red oblong jewel rests in the middle of her forehead.

She stares at him for a minute, and then says, “The great Anankos has ordered your demise. As his daughter, Irida, I’m going to carry out this mission without fail.”

“Daughter? I don’t—you’re not—”

He spends a long time avoiding attacks as his heroes cut down the corpses. Irida balls her hands into fists as her soldiers are slain one by one. She concentrates an orb of magic between her outstretched arms, and sends it flying at the four when they’re busy cutting down the last of the soldiers.

_They won’t dodge it in time. And that’s too much magic compressed in one attack._

Janus throws himself in front of the blast, and Irida yells.

“Fate!” Lucetta screams. “Fate!”

“G-Go!” he says, shooing them away. “You need to do what I said! Find her, and help them! End this madness!”

When they run toward him instead, they disappear in a flash, whisked away to someplace safer. Janus can’t let them get hurt. They’re vital to the peace of this world. Hopefully they’ll find a village nearby for supplies and get to Windmire as soon as possible.

“You idiot!” Irida stomps over to him, her hand glowing with power. She aims it at him. “Just because you’re split from him, doesn’t mean you can…,” her hand shakes, “you can—I’ll finish you instead!”

“Do it, then. My time is up anyway, and I wouldn’t want him to punish you for failing.”

Irida grits her teeth as she stares at him. Her hand continues to tremble, and then the power fades. Janus smiles at her, his limbs too heavy to move to reach up to her. “You look so much like me. I wish I would’ve known I had another daughter.” He gives a weak laugh. “I’ve never had the chance to bond with you, and I’ve only ever been able to hold your sister when she was a baby. Yet I… I love you both the same, and I wish things would’ve been different. Different enough that we could’ve been a family.”

“You… You love me?” she asks in a soft tone. “But you don’t even know me. I’m… I’m going to kill you.”

“And yet you haven’t. You’re also still my child.”

She takes a deep breath and swallows, getting down on her knees. Irida sits by him, staring at her palms. “I’ve done so much for him,” she starts quietly, “and he never acknowledges it. He won’t even let me call him ‘father’.”

“He never will either. That’s how he is. He’s… He’s too far gone, and I’m sorry you couldn’t have been born from my own involvement.” Pain sears through his arm as he reaches up to Irida, cupping her cheek with a hand. She looks at him with wide golden eyes, slowly placing her own smaller hand on top of his. “You don’t have to listen to him. You can forge your own path. I see a better future for you if you make that choice. He’s weaker without you. You’re yet another part of his power he has to divide. You can be your own person, Irida.”

_Foolish girl_ , comes the chilling voice of Anankos. It echoes all around them. _You couldn’t even do this right. All that effort sending you to the other worlds to find lesser me, wasted. I tire of you._

Out from a corner, a fallen swordsman rushes at them, his weapon aimed straight for Irida’s back. Janus gives her a final grin, and says, “Go forge your own path, my daughter. Find the rest of your family, and help them succeed. I believe in you. Smile for me, okay Irida?”

Before she can even protest, he bathes her in an iridescent light. “F-Father!” The swordsman runs his sword through Irida, though nothing happens to her. Instead it strikes Janus in the chest, and she cries out, “ _No!_ ” Then Irida disappears in a burst of light, warped to somewhere out of Anankos’s current reach.

The swordsman disappears, and Janus is left staring at the darkening sky. He feels cold, and he can’t hear anything. There’s a throbbing pain in his chest, and then he can’t breathe. His eyes slowly droop closed.

_Karuna, Divya, I’m so sorry we couldn’t be together like I wanted. You both deserve better. I wish I could’ve ascended back then, like I should’ve, so neither of you would have to suffer now. But I think I got too attached to humans, and that’s why I wasn’t allowed to go. I love you both so much, Irida too, and I hope all of you can forgive me someday._

When he next opens his eyes, Janus sees the throne room of Castle Gyges. His body isn’t anywhere to be found, and his vision is black at the edges, as if he’s looking through horizontal slits. Whatever little was left of him must’ve been reabsorbed into his dragon being.

“ _They’re going to fail_ ,” Anankos says to himself. “ _I may be weakened, damn you Lesser Half, but Nohr and Hoshido WILL destroy each other. A war so massive, there will be no human left to oppose me once I’m free. I’ll make sure of it._ ”

“You can believe that all you want.”

Anankos shakes his head, growling. “ _YOU. You are to be SILENT! You’re no more!_ ”

“Divya will kill you. She’ll end our suffering, and then finally we can rest….”

“ _NO!_ ”

“But she will. I believe in the heroes I’ve chosen. I believe in Irida. I believe in my love that she’s raised our daughter right. I believe in my niece to survive however she can. And I believe in my precious Divya to fulfill her destiny.”

“ _They deserve to DIE! All of them do! I was a fool for thinking I could trust them!_ ”

“Maybe. That doesn’t mean they’re all bad. A dragon god’s final wish is always to ascend. Wouldn’t reforming as one of the Astral kin be so great? I think it would.”

“ _I HATE MYSELF for doing this to me!_ ” his other half shouts, seemingly ignoring what Janus has just said. “ _For sealing me away! For writing the accursed song! For falling in love with a filthy human and having a CHILD! An abomination of a creature! ABOMINATION! All of it is atrocious—!_ ”

Anankos continues to rant, but the words become jumbled as his hearing fades.

Janus’ vision turns dark, and then he thinks of nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking: "Why the hell is Lucina in here? She's not in FE14." Look, originally, she wasn't going to be. But ever since _Fire Emblem Heroes_ debuted, and I saw that scene in the intro video where Lucina and Xander are standing together, I thought, "...She'd make a great retainer for him. I wonder if I can get away with this in fanfic." So there you go. Lmao It'll make sense once part 2 is released.
> 
> And it _does_ say in the tags of this story that it's an alternate canon, sooo....
> 
> Yay for Janus having a POV! But simultaneously not-yay because he also dies in his only POV. :(
> 
> Just one chapter left until we're done with the first part of this trilogy!
> 
> Until next time! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


	35. XXXV

Irida materializes in a dark realm glittered with colorful stars. She sits on a sheer platform that reflects a prism of hues. Around her are large orbs, bigger than she is tall, and each one peeks into a different world than the one she came from.

“Wh-Where am I?”

She stands on shaky legs, glancing around for any other humans or creatures she knows. None are in sight. The orbs don’t react when she touches them; they only feel as smooth as a finely polished pearl.

“The Astral Plane,” comes a voice from behind her.

Standing there is a large dragon with an impressive iridescent mane. His eyes are a blank white, but she can still feel his stare on her. “That damned Anankos continues to meddle in this realm.”

“My father has been here?”

“Not the mad one; the mortal one. He was here a long time ago. Why did he send you to this place? And who are you?”

“Oh, uh,” she gives a quick bow, “my name is Irida. I’m his daughter. Sort of. I was self-sired from the dragon version to carry out his deeds. I… haven’t been alive too long. Only about a year. Who are you, great dragon?”

“I am called Moro,” he replies calmly, “leader of the Astral Dragons. Why did your father send you here?”

“Um, I’m not actually sure,” she admits. “He… died before I could ask him. The one called Janus, I mean. All he said was that I could forge my own path if I chose to separate myself from his other half. I don’t think he can find me here when he’s so weak.”

Moro doesn’t move, and doesn’t blink. He makes a deep noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t know what he expects me to do for you, Irida. I’ve already done plenty by allowing him to travel through here in the first place and spend years finding that aid he kept talking about. I suppose you’re stuck in this plane, girl.”

As he begins to walk away, Irida takes a step forward and says, “W-Wait! I’d like it if you could teach me how to be an Astral Dragon, please? I can be more useful to my sister this way—the one I need to help to kill the other half of Anankos.”

“Let me guess: I should help you because if he gets too powerful, he’ll try to come here.” The girl nods, and Moro growls, shaking his head. “How exactly do you plan to help this other sibling?”

“I don’t know; I’ve never met her. But I want to keep her safe until the time is right to strike against my father.”

“Since you are not originally from this realm, I cannot grant you all our powers,” Moro begins. “I can only grant you powers that’ll help you accomplish this goal.” He reaches into his thick mane with a clawed hand, and pulls out a large white pearl. “Practice with this before you return to your world. It’ll help. Time passes differently in each of these realms.”

Irida takes the pearl in her arms. It’s surprisingly light, and half her size. The orb glows and she closes her eyes as the light blinds her. When she next opens them, she’s in an empty plot of land in the middle of a vast lake. Mountains line the distance with a forest at the very edge of the sandy banks. The morning sun peeks over the horizon.

“This is an Outrealm,” Moro’s voice echoes from above. “It’s the smallest realm in the Astral Plane thus far. There aren’t any humans or establishments here. Only animals. The mountains you see in the distance are as far as this realm will go. It’ll warp you back to this spot if you try to cross that boundary.”

“And what do I do here?” she asks.

“In this realm only, you have some power of creation. Do what you will with it. Call upon me when you’re ready to return to your home. And get comfortable in your dragon form sooner than later.”

It’s then she realizes that she’s actually floating a few inches above the ground. She shrieks as she stares at her hands, now turned into small claws. Irida hovers to the edge of the lake, and gasps at the reflection staring back at her.

She looks like a fish. A quadrupedal fish with short stubby legs. Her hide is colored white with splotches of blue and accents of red, just like her hair was. A large fin crests down her spine and an elegant fish tail sweeps back and forth behind her, as if she were underwater. Her snout is short and wide like her head, perhaps to hold her large eyes; the only things having changed from before is their size and shape.

“Well, I…,” she looks around the empty plot, “…I guess I need to get to work.”

As time doesn’t flow the same as in her home realm, she goes at a steady pace learning what she can and can’t create. Humans are a no. That’s the first thing she tries. So she aims smaller, and creates a flower. It works.

For many sunrises and sunsets, she learns to grow plants and stone. Learns how to construct edifices and landscapes the plot until it looks nice. She creates bridges and channels and even a tall walled border with a walkway on top. Large mossy boulders act as gates so nothing can get in unless she wants them to. Irida manages to make a small castle as well with an ornate glass dome overhead. It has many rooms for different purposes.

Lastly, she makes a shrine for herself just outside the castle. It’s a small stone hut with a similar sized tree running through it. A pool of water rests around it with pink lotuses floating on the surface.

She spends the next several days practicing her other draconic powers. Irida finds that she can attack with Astral Breath, but also heal. (She apologizes to every animal she’s had to create to practice for this.) She might not be as strong as her mortal father, but it’s good enough for a decent start.

“You’ve done well.” Moro voice echoes from above and Irida jumps, giving a small squeak. “And I see you’ve figured out this realm is outside the scope of the curse. You wouldn’t have lotuses otherwise.”

“His power doesn’t reach here,” she says. “I realized that after several weeks of practicing. He would’ve found me by now if he could. Besides, I’m a part of him, so I wouldn’t perish even if I did speak of Valla.”

Moro hums. “Are you ready to begin your search for your sister now?”

“I am.”

“Very well. Picture a place safe enough to begin your journey. Keep the pearl safe too, as it’s where this realm resides.”

“I’m _inside_ the thing?”

“Yes. Like I just said, keep it safe.”

“Understood.”

Irida hesitates closing her eyes, as she doesn’t even know where to start looking. Nohr and Hoshido are both so large, not to mention there are also a cluster of islands down south in the sea. But she has to start somewhere, and so closes her eyes to envision Notre Sagesse, the half-way point between both nations.

She ends up at the entrance of the Sevenfold Sanctuary, for whatever reason.

Quickly she transforms back into a human, and resizes the pearl to be as small as the pad of her finger. She presses it into the red jewel on her head, and it disappears. _It’ll be safe if it’s in my mind. Nobody will know about it._

The large wooden door creaks behind her, and she jumps. Out steps an old man with a long staff, just a few inches taller than the top of his head. He wears dark green robes with an even darker shawl. The edges are sewn with a golden border encasing an infinite pattern of triangles. His hair is silver like the beard that hangs halfway down his chest.

“You’re looking for someone,” he says. A fact, not a guess.

“I-I am,” comes her quiet reply. “How did you—”

“Money is a necessity to find somebody.”

“Um, yes I guess it is. Technically.”

Smiling, the old man asks, “Do you have a job, young lady?”

Irida rocks on her heels, hands behind her back. “Er, no I don’t. I suppose I should get one if I want to find somebody, huh?”

But her list of skills outside of being a dragon is very small. Why need them when she can just create whatever? Of course, that’s only within her Outrealm, so she’ll have to learn some sort of trade if she wants to survive out here.

He’s silent for a moment, still smiling. “I’ve heard there is a small fortress westward that is in need of more servants. It’s hidden somewhere in the mountains just outside of Windmire. Or that’s what I’ve been told.”

The elderly man looks up at the sky, “Look how blue it is this afternoon. What a wonderful day to be a bird.” He gives a nod, and then walks right back into the sanctuary.

Irida stares at the door, blinking once. She has a feeling she’s supposed to decipher what he’s said as some form of help. A fortress westward. She’s never been to Windmire, but knows of its general location, so she’ll have to start there.

With no one else in sight, she transforms into a blue bird with a white belly and red underwings, and takes off into the sky.

She flies for days, stopping only to rest and eat if she can. The closer she gets inland, the less the skies are blue. They stay a constant gray regardless of where the sun is. Down below, some of the land is arid, and she knows it’s Anankos’ fault. What better way to start a war between humans than to deprive them of basic resources like food?

_Oh I really hope this sister of mine can fix this_ , Irida thinks as the silhouette of Windmire appears in the distance. _I wonder how she’s like? Maybe… Maybe we’ll get along…._

Though the skies are gray, it’s still warm, being in the middle of the summer season. Irida takes a rest on a barren branch and sighs. It comes out as a weak chirp. This far into the nation, she hasn’t had much luck in food. Aside from dodging prey birds like falcons whenever she needs to rest, she’s only been able to eat small things like berries if she’s lucky. Digging for worms would take too long, and the bugs blend into the scenery that she can’t always catch them before they scurry away to a hole or crevice she can’t fit through.

Well, she could turn into a bug that size to chase it, but what would be the point then?

Once she’s caught her breath, Irida continues to fly until she finds the fortress. It’s evening by the time it appears in the distance. Most of the windows glow a warm yellow, and there are two smokestacks, which she guesses means they have two kitchens. Soldiers are guarding the gates and the outer walls are patrolled by archers on the upper walkway.

Irida flies into the fortress’ campus only to crash through some kind of barrier. She shrieks and clutches at her wing with the other one. Flapping a single wing only helps ease her to the nearest ledge of a window, and she plops onto the smooth stone, leaning against the bars. She tries to move her wing, but it hurts if she bends it.

“Huh? Oh no,” a voice says from behind her. “What’s happened, little one?”

She looks up and sees a young lady with black hair, long and straight, with bangs cut neatly across her forehead. She looks about 18 if Irida has to guess. Her eyes are as red as rubies with slit pupils, and the ends of her ears are pointed. Like her own. _Is this…?!_

“You’re hurt, aren’t you?” she asks. The girl gently scoops her up from between the bars and carries her into the room. It’s sparse, save for a bed, a wardrobe, a couch, a table, and two chairs. One large faded red rug rests at the center of the floor.

Irida simply chirps in response.

The girl chips off a small piece of wood from the end of the table. “People get casts if they’ve hurt a limb,” she says, “so it has to be the same for birds, right?” The wood and a thin cloth is wrapped around Irida’s broken wing. She supposes she can just heal herself, but that might look strange now that this girl has seen her.

She sits there on the table as the girl makes a little bed with some spare cloth inside a decorated box. The wood is lacquered and inlaid with pink pearlescent designs of cherry blossoms. “You can rest in here,” she says, placing Irida inside. “I’m not supposed to have pets, but, well you’re not really a pet, are you? When you’re all better, you’ll be free.”

A tray of food is untouched at the edge of the table. The girl takes a piece of bread and places it in front of Irida. “There you go. I have a lot more if you’re still hungry after that.” She smiles sweetly, stroking Irida’s feathery head with a finger. “Rest up. The sooner you do, the sooner you can leave.”

“Who can leave?”

She gasps and turns around. Standing at the doorway is a lanky man with dark oily hair. If Irida had her regular nose, she’d scrunch it up in disgust. His robes are mainly red with elaborate gold patterns sewn in. From the looks of things, he’s probably a Nohrian mage of some kind.

He growls as he stomps forward, aggressively pulling the girl aside by the forearm. “Why is there an animal in here? No pets! You’ll get distracted!”

“I was just—n-no! Wait!” she cries as the man snatches the box and takes it to the window. “What’re you doing?!”

The man doesn’t answer her. He simply flips the box upside down and dumps Irida out the window. She hears the girl scream and the man yells at her to be quiet.

As she falls, she concentrates on healing her broken wing and jiggling out of the makeshift cast. Just before she hits one of the tiled roofs below, she swoops up in an arc back into the sky. The window from where she came is closed now.

That girl has to be her sister. She can feel it. She can see her father, Janus, in the girl’s eyes. In the way she smiles. Irida isn’t sure who the mother is, but that girl is just as beautiful as Janus was handsome. If only she knew her name.

Irida flies into the courtyard and lands behind a crate. Double-checking that she’s alone, she transforms back into a human. Irida swipes her hands down her torso and her clothes morph into that of a servant girl’s. Her long hair is tied into a braid and hangs down her shoulder. She sets her white cap firmly on her head and covers her ears with the flaps so others don’t point them out.

As if she already works here, she strolls out from behind the crates and heads inside. Nobody questions her presence when she gets to the dining hall. Its dim light source comes from the modest chandelier hanging from the ceiling. An unlit fireplace hides in the back. Some of the soldiers on break ask her for more refills on their rum or another piece of roast.

By her third trip to the kitchen, one of the cooks clicks her teeth. “I’m missing a tray,” she says with a pout. Unlike the others, she’s wearing a maid’s uniform. When she spots Irida, she does a double-take. “Who’re you?”

_Oh crap._ “I’m the new help,” she quickly answers. “Is there any more mutton for the soldiers out there?”

“They’ve had enough,” she replies. “We aren’t a meat market.” The young woman stares at her some more. Her eyes are an icy blue, just a little lighter than her hair. “Did Iago hire you?”

“Yes,” she lies, not knowing who that is. “I just started today.”

With a heavy sigh, the woman replies, “Alright, fine. I’ll… begin training you tomorrow. Not like I expect him to care about telling me when new servants are added. If you can go up to Lady Kamui’s room and bring her food tray back, that’d be helpful.”

Irida nods. “Where is her room?”

“Right, you don’t yet know. I’ll take you there myself.”

She follows the maid out of a second kitchen exit and walks across a bridge that connects the upper two halves of the fortress. The windows are larger in this one and also have bars. A spiral staircase in the tower leads to another kitchen. It’s currently empty but smells like someone had just been cooking. They pass by a hallway with a few closed doors, “Rooms for the help specifically for her,” and then climb up a shorter spiral staircase that loops around only once.

The door is locked, and the maid takes out a key from her pocket. “Lady Kamui,” she knocks twice, “I’m coming in to take your tray.”

Irida stays by the doorway as the maid goes into the room. It’s the same place she just was. Kamui, her newfound sister, is laying on the bed with her back turned. The maid talks to her in a low voice, but Kamui doesn’t respond. From this angle she can’t quiet tell, but the light sniffling can only mean she had been crying earlier. Her food tray is untouched.

“Are you okay, miss?” Irida asks, stepping into the room.

Kamui turns around, and stares. Her eyes are puffy. “Um, y-yeah I’m fine. Who are you? I don’t remember seeing you before.” The box from earlier with the floral design is back on the table. Next to it is its lid. One of its corners is broken, and the missing piece isn’t anywhere in sight.

“I’m Lilith, the new help,” she says, holding out her hand. Cherry blossoms aren’t lilies, but she can’t use her real name. Just as a precaution. Clearing her throat, Irida—no, she’s Lilith now— _Lilith_ gives a quick curtsy. Right. From the sound of things, her sister is nobility of some kind. Hoshidan, considering her name. “It’s nice to meet you, Lady Kamui.”

“Yeah.” She sits up on the bed, offering a weak smile. “Nice to meet you too, Lilith.”

_I found her, Father._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap for part 1! Hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> Haven't started on part 2 yet. Lol I also have two other fanfics I wanna write, each from a different fandom, so I gotta figure out how I wanna divide my time between these projects. Part 1 updated so frequently because I waited until I was done writing the whole thing before I started publishing it. But I think part 2 is gonna be longer than 35 chapters--not sure yet, so I need to ask:
> 
> Would you prefer if I published part 2 when it's all done, or when it's in-progress? If it's the latter, I'll start publishing it once I have 15 chapters written, and the update intervals will be about 2 - 3 days. (Gives me time to write the rest of it.)
> 
> Er, regardless of which one you choose, I still can't tell you a definite date or estimate as to when I'll have part 2 published. It depends on how much time my schoolwork will take this coming fall semester, and other offline obligations. But it will come eventually! Don't worry about that.
> 
> Last question: I'm curious. Now that you've read all of part 1, who do you think Kamui's potential love interests might be, and how do you think they'll develop? Whether they're characters who've interacted with her in part 1, or some who have yet to do so. I still haven't decided on a definite endgame for her, so reader input might just influence me... to go a certain way.... Might.... :3c
> 
> Final note here. I didn't like the aspect of FE14 where if you got married during the campaign and had a kid, you just kinda tossed them in an Outrealm. They're... not important to the story like they were in FE13. So the only Outrealm that exists in my fanfic is the one where your custom castle goes. I liked that feature. Lol
> 
> If you want, come chat with me on Twitter at [pnkpchs](https://twitter.com/pnkpchs)! I like getting to know my reader base more.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading part 1, and I'll see everyone again when part 2 is released! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ


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